


Siren Song - NCT x You (On Hold)

by neocitybynight



Series: Into the Idolverse [4]
Category: K-pop, NCT (Band)
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Blow Jobs, Childhood Friends, Choose Your Own Ending, Comfort Sex, Cunnilingus, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Idols, Light Dom/sub, Oral Sex, Riding, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, kpop, lovers in general, sexual healing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-27
Updated: 2020-05-24
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:53:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 30,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23334928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neocitybynight/pseuds/neocitybynight
Summary: You are part of SM's hottest new girl group, SIREN. As part of your latest comeback, you are partnered with NCT. Fall for different members as you navigate interviews, variety shows, MV shoots, world tours, and, the hardest game of them all, love.
Relationships: Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul | Ten/Reader, Dong Si Cheng | WinWin/Reader, Huang Ren Jun/Reader, Jung Yoonoh | Jaehyun/Reader, Kim Dongyoung | Doyoung/Reader, Kim Jungwoo (NCT)/Reader, Lee Donghyuck | Haechan/Reader, Lee Jeno/Reader, Lee Taeyong/Reader, Mark Lee (NCT)/Reader, Na Jaemin/Reader, Nakamoto Yuta/Reader, Park Jisung (NCT)/Reader, Qian Kun/Reader, Suh Youngho | Johnny/Reader, Wong Kun Hang | Hendery/Reader, Wong Yuk Hei | Lucas/Reader, Xiao De Jun | Xiao Jun/Reader, Zhong Chen Le/Reader
Series: Into the Idolverse [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1965241
Comments: 13
Kudos: 157





	1. Navigation Guide + Requests

Hello, lovelies! Welcome to my whimsical madhouse of a first fic.

 **THE STORY -- >** In this universe, you are the 19-year-old foreign maknae of SM's newest girl group, SIREN. Stage name Mai, though your newest nickname is Girl-Mark, or the girl version of Mark Lee, because that's basically what role you play in your group. In your newest comeback, you collaborate with NCT, meaning that you are forced to interact with them on variety shows, interviews, world tours, video shoots, maybe even some parties. There will be fluff, angst, humor, smut, everything in between as you get to know each member. 

**REQUESTS -- >** I have to admit, I may not write about every O21 member unless prompted, so if you have a specific member in mind, please comment below, and whether you want them for an existing ensemble chapter or a future one.

 **STRUCTURE -- >** The general plotline is contained to the ENSEMBLE chapters (for people just here for fluff, you can read just those for the full story), while each MEMBER has their own narrative arc within the sub-chapters relating to that specific chapter. After every ensemble chapter I post, I'll post my personal favorite chapters, but always feel free to make a request if I don't get someone you want to see.

Example:

Chapter: Weekly Idol (Ensemble)

Chapter: Jaehyun Part 1

Chapter: Haechan Part 1 - assumes Jaehyun Part 1 did not happen. Directly follows Weekly Idol (Ensemble)

Chapter: VLive (Ensemble) - assumes you did not choose any members in the previous work. Directly follows Weekly Idol (Ensemble)

Chapter: Jaehyun Part 2 - assumes Jaehyun Part 1 in Weekly Idol occured.

Chapter: Mark Part 1 - assumes you did not choose any members in previous work. Directly follows NCT's House Party (Ensemble)

**RELATIONSHIP GUIDE (ONGOING)**

**SIREN** is SM's newest girl group, who debuted in 2016, alongside NCT.

MAI - maknae, vocalist, dancer, visual. Played by you, dear reader.

JIA - leader, vocalist and mother figure, gets on well with Mai.

ANGEL - visual, vocalist, dancer, has a huge ego, isn't as talented as she thinks, sees Mai as a rival.

JADE - rapper, dancer, Mai's party-loving best friend.

EVIE - vocalist, dancer, people consider her the real maknae of the group. Loves everybody.

**NCT (applies to ensemble chapters only)**

HAECHAN - pest, always competing with you to be maknae-on-top. Hooked up with you the night before debut.

JENO - always your friend, sometimes with benefits. Possibly more whipped for you than he's letting on.

LUCAS - you were friends during training, but haven't seen each other since debut.

RENJUN - loves to make fun of your Chinese and draw you as a Moomin.

JAEMIN - your chaotic, coffee-loving best friend.

JAEHYUN - an older brother figure, took care of you during training.

TAEYONG - your cat-loving sunbaenim who seems a lot softer than he lets on.


	2. Weekly Idol (Ensemble)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which you and NCT are paired on Weekly Idol. Highlights include reuniting with old friend Jaehyun, using Johnny as a chair, and a heated game of pepero with Haechan. Rated T.
> 
> For a more comprehensive guide to this pick-your-path, see Pick Your Path Guide.

"With the voices of sirens and the faces of angels, they've already captured many Korean hearts. Following their latest comeback, streams on Melon and services across the world have been record-breaking, and fans have flocked to the stores to buy their merchandise and mini-album, which was released in collaboration with NCT and WayV. Let's introduce our next guests, the lovely ladies of SIREN!"

You know the drill. The poppy intro music, the bright white studio, the cringey hosts (you've seen Weekly Idol before) but to actually be here is surreal. Behind you, your bandmate and best friend Jade squeezes your hand once, and that gives you the confidence to smile and walk forward.

"Welcome, ladies, welcome," Doni says. Beside him, Coni smiles and waves. "Now, Coni here was in charge of research for today, but a little birdie told me he slept in."

You all pretend to laugh. "So, please remind him and the viewers of who you are, and maybe, what your roles are in SIREN?"

The group nods. First up is Jia. She's the leader, main vocalist, and main dancer. Very much a mother figure. Then come Jade (vocalist, dancer), Evie (lead rapper, dancer), Angel (main dancer, lead rapper, and visual, or at least, she thinks so). Then the mic is passed to you.

"Hi guys," you say, smiling brightly, although your heart is beating out of your chest. "I'm Mai. Vocalist, dancer, and maknae." According to Twitter, Sirenies consider you a good contender for center and visual, but, well, you don't exactly mention that here.

"But that's not all," Doni says, then laughs loudly. "You're foreign too, right?"

You nod. 

"Well, I'm surprised, your Korean is great," the MC says. "A lot of times, foreign idols will only pretend to laugh at my jokes, but you seem to be on top of it."

You squirm - though you weren't born in Korea, you've literally been training here since you were a kid. Sometimes, you think you're better in Korean than your mother tongue.

"Doni, everyone pretends to laugh at your jokes," Coni quips, coming to your rescue. 

The portly MC shrugs. "Well, Mai, whatever the case, you are aware of your nickname, yes? Fans are calling you the female Mark Lee. How does that make you feel?"

You internally roll your eyes. Yes, you've heard this - being a foreigner and hardworking triple threat (and at 19, you're pretty close in age), of course people are comparing you to Mark. The amount of Mark x Mai fanfic on the internet is insane - Jade's made a habit of browsing all the best sites and sending you the juiciest ones. The one from Ao3 she sent you last night made you blush.

But, you're not supposed to know any of this. Looking slightly behind camera, your notice your producer, Yeji, miming a demure response. "I'm very honored," you say, lacing your hands together and blushing a little. "I'd love to do a show with Mark one day, he's such an inspiration to all of us in this generation of k-pop."

"Well, you won't have long to wait. Shall we spill the beans, Coni?"

"Fans are going wild over your NCT mini-album collaboration, and so we thought we'd bring you together to share some trade secrets and get to know each other a bit better. Boys?"

Your heart skips a beat. Being similar in age to Dream, you definitely met a few members in passing during training (some, maybe more than others), but you were definitely not prepared to see them today. Especially not with them dressed to the nines, pale, tall, grinning confident smiles and waving to you as they walk in. With your heart pumping out of your chest, a hot, nervous feeling burning in your stomach, you paste on a smile and clap politely.

As they all file in, a few catch your eye. There's Jaehyun, who would sometimes come down to the practice rooms to bother you and chat in English, your friend (with occasional benefits) Jeno, Lucas, who looks even taller than you remember from trainee days, goofy Jaemin who almost killed you with a hoverboard last year...and Haechan. As the maknaes (at least in 127), you and Haechan in theory would get along, but you've always fought. It's cooled down since you've been busy debuting, but you can still remember all of Haechan's trainee day pranks like they were yesterday. Not to mention that thing that happened, the night before your debut. But more on that later, you have a show to shoot.

The boys settle into seats behind you, with Jaehyun and Ten filling in on either side. Jaehyun drops you a wink, and it takes all your composure to keep from blushing. Though he's always treated you as a little sister, that was years ago during training. Now that you're adults, a wink seems a little much, right?

"Remember me?" Jaehyun whispers, in English.

"How could I forget?" you say. "With all those Korean classes, I think you're the reason I can still speak English fluently."

"Glad I could help," he says. Beside you, Ten leans over curiously. 

"Mai, right?" he says, also in English. "The foreigner."

"I could say the same for you, Chittaphon," you say, winking. Jaehyun laughs at Ten's stunned expression.

"Watch out bro," he says. "She might be Girl-Mark, but she'll bite your head off. Sweet but a psycho."

You shove your elbow into his side at the mention of Mark. He's seated at the end, and when you look over to see if he heard, he mercifully hasn't. But the boy sitting next to him hasn't missed your exchange with his hyungs. Haechan, whose hair shines a freshly-dyed chestnut hue, is staring at you, an unreadable expression on his face. 

You look away, face burning. It's been a while since you've seen him, but the last time you were in the same room, it was...memorable. Five words: Dream dorm, truth or dare.You're sure he hasn't forgotten either.

"Welcome, NCT," Coni says. "Now, there's a few more of you than last time. Members of WayV, please raise your hands."

Finally, after all these years, WayV has been allowed to promote with NCT, in the context of features on your album. Besides Lucas, you only know them in passing, although after learning songs in English, Korean, and Mandarin, you're starting to resent Lee's decision to let them work with the main group. Kun, Lucas, Hendery, WinWin, Xiaxojun, Ten and Yangyang all introduce themselves. Doni slips in a few Chinese jokes that no one really thinks are funny, then the main part of the program begins.

"Now, today we're going to be doing a series of challenges," Doni says, as Coni walks around, handing out sticker which display group name and unit. "We'll break it up by unit - so NCT 127, NCT Dream, WayV, and SIREN will all be separate teams. If you are in more than one, you can choose where your points go."

Everyone looks at Mark, who blushes and hides his face in Yuta's shoulder. 

"The first challenge is a dance-off. For each song played, send at least one representative from each team to dance it. Fail to complete the song or send a member, and you're eliminated."

Everyone starts buzzing, excited. "Should we be worried?" Jade whispers. "I don't know many boy group songs."

"Look at them, there's no chance guys as macho as them practice girl group songs," Jia says, reassuringly. 

"I've seen Mai practicing plenty of boy group songs," Angel adds. Out of all of them, she's always been the most competitive with you. Probably because even though she's technically the visual of the group, there's a pretty large number of stans who have started the #MaiVisual campaign. "She's practically a hyung at this point."

"Stop it," you say, laughing prettily for the camera, though you want to smack her face off. You're a dancer, so of course you want to learn from the best, even boy groups.

The first song begins to play. Sorry, Sorry by Super Junior. Everyone jumps up and does the dance - probably the easiest you could hope for. Then a varied list that includes RV, EXO, Monsta X, TWICE, even a Stray Kids song (your friend Felix would be proud). You go out for every single one, as do Mark and Haechan. Johnny is in there too, but loses it at Boy With Luv.

The next song is Be Natural. Everyone laughs as your group stands up, along with Haechan, who joins the formation for the chorus. After that section is over, you think it's done, but then that infamous last verse kicks in. The one where they dance on chairs. Your group sits down, but you can see that Haechan is still dancing.  _ We'll lose if you sit down _ , you realize. Though you're both sweating and tired, you continue the dance. When you get to the part where you sit, funny guys Johnny and Jaehyun dart out and go on all fours, offering themselves up as chairs. Johnny is yours, you realize with a blush, and you're all kinds of red as you sink down onto his back, trying not to crush him. You scissor your legs out, turning sideways (and straddling his back) as the next part comes up.

At this point, Haechan has to run his hands through your hair and down your back. You know it's coming, but you can't fight the nervous giggles that come out as he does it. Or the shiver that come as his hands brush across the bare skin of your lower back - what a day to wear a crop top. Everyone in the studio hollers. This throws you off, to the point that when you're supposed to spin and hit the final pose, you accidentally clock the back of Johnny's head with your heel.

The whole studio explodes with laughter. You shoot up, hands over your mouth. "Omigod, I'm so sorry, Johnny," you say. "I got so into the music, I didn't see you, is your head okay?"

Johnny's head is down, and for a moment you're worried. Then he sits up, and flashes you the brightest smile. "I'm fine," he says, in English. "It's not the worst thing to be sat on by a pretty girl."

You're not sure if your mental translation is off, but you're sure the visceral sputter and blush that are produced at his words aren't your body imagining things. Luckily, everyone's talking, so no one else heard. With a wink, Johnny heads back off to his seat, leaving you confused and, dare I say, a little bit red?

"Looks like SIREN and NCT Dream are tied for points," Coni says. "Unless Haechan wants to give his points to NCT 127..."

Jeno and Jaemin start hooting, and Haechan shakes his head. "I'll stick with Dream on this one."

"Then we'll have to settle this with a tie breaker. Could each group select two members, besides Mai and Haechan?"

A producer hands Coni a small red box, and your heart sinks. Pocky. That means...

"To settle this, we're going to play a good old fashioned game of Pepero. Three rounds, the first to pull away loses, if there's no winner after that, we'll call it a real tie."

Everyone pulls into huddles. "This is unexpected," Evie giggles. "Pepero with NCT? That's like almost kissing, right?"

"Not if you time it right," Jia says. "My manager is holding up a sign that says 'don't let your lips touch.'"

"Dispatch would have a cow," you say, giggling.

"That'll be hardest for you," Angel mutters darkly, casting a meaningful side eye at the boys.

Everyone looks at you, but you're saved as the MCs call the teams forward. You decide on Evie and Jade - Jia's too shy and Angel...well, Angel's kind of a bitch. The boys have picked Mark, Haechan, and Lucas. 

The MCs call up the first pair - Mark and Jade. Mark is laughing and blushing and nervous, to the delight of all his fellow members. Jade looks at you two and shakes her head, then strides confidently forward, taking a monster bite of cookie. Mark pulls away long before long before they're even close. Everyone bursts out laughing, and you sigh with relief. One down. 

"Next pair!" Doni calls. Evie steps forward. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Lucas shoving Haechan forward, but the younger boy gives the slightest (truly the slightest, not even the cameras pick it up) shake of the head, whispering something in Lucas' ear. Rage flashes through you - Evie is so pretty and nice, and Haechan is refusing to do it with her? Dick.

With a laugh, Lucas heads forward and places the pocky in his mouth. Poor Evie, the most innocent in the group, takes two little nibbles before pulling away, blushing fiercely. 

Fuck. That means you still have to go.

You lock eyes with Haechan, a silent challenge. He could easily just give his points to NCT 127 right now and just end it, but you know he won't. Coni hands you a pocky and you place it in your mouth, and, to throw him off, wink. As the boys ooh and the cameras pan eagerly to Haechan for a reaction, Haechan swaggers over and places his mouth on the other side. You're in such close quarters, you can see every detail of his face, from the soft brown eyes to the heart-shaped lips, currently wrapped around the chocolate end of the pocky. 

Time seems to slow down. Keeping eye contact, you take a huge bite, moving in closer. Haechan, undaunted, takes an even bigger bite. You're left with only an inch between you. You look into his eyes, really look for the first time, and are unsurprised to see the challenge there. The challenge, and something else. You raise an eyebrow.  _ Gonna swerve? _ He shakes his head infinitesimally. Fine. You lean forward to take the last bite, and realize too late that he's done the same. You meet in the middle, chocolate and wafer crumbling between you, and your lips touch. 

You're instantly jolted back to that night in the Dreamies' dorm. Haechan's soft lips on yours (he tasted like cherries), his hands on your waist, the little smile he gave you, after...

You pull your head back. Everyone in the studio is screaming, Johnny is on the floor, Doyoung looks concerned, you think Taeyong might actually being crying with laughter. You dare to chance a glance at Haechan, and are surprised at the expression on his face - he's breathing heavily, eyes dark, that unreadable look on his face back as he looks at you.

"Wow, that'll be blowing up on all the sites tomorrow," Doni says gleefully. "Haechan, Mai, I'm glad you're so dedicated to your members that you would dare to kiss the enemy."

You shake your head and giggle, glad of your maknae status.

"Now, moving on, let's put our hands together for SIREN's first Weekly Idol performance of their headlining song, School's Out..."

As the boys head to the sides, and you move into position for the song, you shake off the tension. This is about you, your music, no amount of pretty boys in the studio can throw you off. Or so you hope.

  
  



	3. Jaehyun - Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which your manager yells at you for the stunt you pulled on Weekly Idol, and Jaehyun finds you crying in your green room. What happens when you put two of SM's hottest idols in an emotional charged, empty room together? Rated M.

"What the hell was that?" your manager Yeji yells, dragging you bodily into your green room.

"I'm sorry," you say. "I-I just wanted to win, I guess?"

"What part of 'don't let your lips touch' do you not understand?" she says, poking a finger into your chest. "Do you know how hard I'm going to have to work to kill this story?"

"C'mon, it was a tiny peck," you say. "I don't even think our lips touched."

"Until the slow-mo cam," your manager says. "I heard the MCs laughing about it, they're saying your kiss is going to be the YouTube thumbnail. Do you know how many fans would love to see you dating one of the NCT boys? Huh? For reasons I cannot fathom, you've become SM's darling and a fan favorite, which means..."

"What?"

"Which means you're under double scrutiny, and need to do exactly as I say," she hisses. "When's the last time a foreigner got this far?"

You bite your tongue to keep yourself from mentioning Mark, Johnny, Lucas, Ten, and countless others. Your manager's phone starts ringing. "That's Kim Sang-Ook from HR. Just keep your mouth shut and let me handle this, okay?"

She stomps off with a huff. You sink into the chair, shaking. You've seen Yeji blow up before, but not like this. This is so unfair - if it were any other member, they'd be more okay, but, like she said, you have higher standards. Bullshit. Tears begin to sting your eyes, and you let it all out, wailing and screaming into your fists, because you don't want anyone to hear. You can feel your makeup running, but you don't care. This is bullshit. Bullshit. Bullshit.

A soft knock sounds on the door. Quickly, you look at yourself in the mirror - you're a mess, with mascara drooling down your face and your foundation smudged, but you don't care. "Come in," you say, assuming it's one of your group members. Your heart jumps into your mouth when the door opens and you realize who it is.

Standing in the doorway is none other than Jung Jaehyun. SM's prince, your friend throughout all those years of training, now currently very hot and looking slightly concerned. "Jesus Christ, Mai," he says, running over and enveloping you into a giant bear hug. You cling to the front of his shirt, holding him close and continuing to cry.

"Shh, shh, let it out, it's okay," Jaehyun says, stroking your hair. Pressed against his chest, you can feel his warmth, his steady heartbeat, which calms you down. "It's okay, kid."

Right. He is your oppa, your sunbaenim, the older guy who had tugged your pigtails and brought you strawberry Milkis when training was rough. He'd always called you kid, ruffling your hair and pulling you tight to his side as he smiled, dimples on display. It hadn't been until years later that you realized you'd basically grown up snuggling Korea's Adonis, and somewhere, deep down, you'd hoped that maybe, given that you were both adults, he would return the schoolgirl crush you'd nursed for him. 

It's this thought that brings you spinning back to reality. "What are you doing here?" you hiss, shoving his broad chest. Though you're small, he pulls back. You feel cold, now that you're not hugging him, cold mixed with panic. "Yeji just yelled at me for being seen kissing Haechan, what will she do-"

"Don't worry about it," Jaehyun says. "I heard her in the hallway, she's going to be on the phone for awhile."

"Yeah, probably with Lee Soo-man about how she can get me thrown out of SM," you say. "For a goddamn kiss."

Jaehyun's brow furrows. "Yeah, about that..."

"It's so stupid," you say. "It was a stupid game, that's what happens in pepero. I can't help it if he's a little shit and too competitive for his own good."

"You two were the same trainee class, right?" Jaehyun says.

You nod. "Yeah. We...I mean I'm not going to get into what happened during crazy trainee days, but he's like my brother now. I didn't try to kiss him, if that's what you're asking."

It's slight, but Jaehyun seems to relax a little. "I'm sorry," he says. "I know how hard the managers can be on you, believe me."

"Always on you to smile, look perfect..."

"Lose weight, dance perfectly..."

You laugh, weakly. "Maybe we shouldn't have chosen an industry where the artists are called 'idols.'"

"There's something beautiful to it, though," Jaehyun says. "How hard we work, how much joy we can bring to people."

"That's a positive spin," you say, thinking of all the dark parts. The lack of sleep, the sasaengs, the fakeness of it all. "I'm just...I'm so tired, Jaehyunnie."

The nickname slips out, and you look to him, eyes wide with shock. It's not like he's ever asked you to call him oppa, but you haven't talked in years. And it's not like you're a little kid anymore, either. But instead of the anger you expected to see on his face, you find a look of tenderness. He gives you that smile, that cute, full dimples smile that melts hearts across the globe. "Do you know why I first talked to you, all those years ago?"

"Because I stayed after to train late and took your slot?"

He shakes his head. "Well, that too, but I remember seeing you through the glass on the door. You were small, this scrappy little thing, barely knew Korean at all. I'd heard instructors talking about this foreign trainee who stayed late every day, who worked harder in all her classes than anyone. I'd heard about you, but actually seeing you...most people dance with their bodies, but you dance with your heart. I only came in to compliment you on your dance moves...but talking to you convinced me to stay. Because you're like a little sunbeam, kid. You're always so happy, you love performing more than life, you don't care about the fame, or the money, or any of that. You never did, and you still don't today. Which is why I admire you so much."

You look up at him, surprised. It's not like Jaehyun to get this emotional - you swear you can see a tear shining in the corner of his eye. "I missed you, Jae."

"And I you," he says, that blessed smile back. "Now let's get you cleaned up, change back into your streetclothes, then we'll get you back to your dorm."

"Okay," you say. Jaehyun grabs a packet of makeup wipes from the vanity and begins to gently clean your face. His long fingers ghost over your skin, but you have to keep from shivering at the contact. Aside from his crazy good looks, he's just so _good_. He's always cared for you, made you feel safe. The feeling, the desire to be closer, more intimate, didn't come until much later, but as his hands rub delicate circles on your face, you want to just grab him and-

"Done," he says, gently.

You swivel in the chair and look into the mirror. Gone is the drooling mascara, the BB cream that's a few shades lighter than your actual skintone, the contouring and the lies the makeup uses to make you face. It's just you. You and Jaehyun.

"I'm going to go change," you say, ripping your eyes from his in the mirror. You go behind a silk folding screen and start to get undressed. Immediately, you realize that it took a team to get you into the outfit. Try as you might, the zipper on the top is too high for you to reach. Taking a deep breath, you know what you have to do. "Jaehyun," you say.

"Yeah?"

"I...I need some help with the costume," you say.

"Oh. Okay." You hear him stand up and turn so that you're facing the wall and don't have to see him. You feel his presence behind you as he steps close. He's so much taller than you, you can feel his breath ruffling the crown of your head as he reaches for your zipper. Slowly, he inches it down your back. You're hyperaware of his touch as he finishes unzipping, of his long fingers as they hold the bottom of the shirt together for modesty. "Are you good?"

You're surprised to hear a catch in his voice, a huskiness that definitely wasn't there before. Feeling a boldness, a reckless tinge that you can't quite place, you reach around and gently bat his hands away, shrugging off the shirt as you do. You hear a sharp intake of breath, a soft sigh that sounds like your name - your real name, not stage. 

"What are you doing?" he whispers.

"I'm doing what you told me to do," you reply. "You told me to change into my street clothes." As you say this, you reach around for the clasp on your bra, letting it fall softly to your feet. "Do you want me to stop?"

His answer is a growl, as he spins you around and crushes your mouth to his. His kiss is hard, insistent, stealing all your breath as he pulls you in tight. You've imagined for years what it would be like to kiss Jaehyun, but this...this is a different level. As softspoken and cheeky as he is in life, when it comes to sex, it's a different matter, you're realizing, as his lips burn over yours, igniting a center of heat in your core. His hands roam over you, on your waist, tangling in your hair, skimming over the sides of your bare breasts. It's like he wants to touch all of you, consume you, and he doesn't know where to start.

You feel your back hit the wall of the green room. Strong hands grip your thighs, bringing your legs around his waist. His lips move from your mouth to your neck. Jaehyun feathers little kisses across the delicate skin, careful not to leave a mark. It's soft, sweet, gentle, even. But you don't want gentle. "You can leave a mark," you whisper. Jaehyun's eyes jerk up to yours. The pupils are blown, and the delicate brown of his irises are glazed with lust.

"But your manager-"

"Do it low, where it won't show," you say. Jaehyun moans your name again, then drops his head and begins to kiss your neck again. Working downwards, he ghosts his lips across your breasts, kissing each nipple, sucking a little, before choosing a spot just below your collar bone and sinking his teeth in.

The combination of pleasure and pain makes your eyes shoot open, a soft cry falling from your mouth. Immediately, Jaehyun pulls back, letting your feet fall to the ground. "Are you okay?"

"Yes," you say, smiling. "It's just..." but you can't find words for all the emotions roiling inside of you, instead pulling his face to yours and kissing him again. The kisses grow steadily hungrier. You grab the hem of his shirt and push it up his body. He worked out a lot for this comeback, and it shows, as he flexes his broad shoulders, now bare. Your hands ghost over his abs, and you feel him shudder, muscles jumping underneath your fingers. 

Keeping his eyes locked to yours, he sinks down onto his knees. Going slow, slow enough that you can stop him if you want, he unlaces your combat boots, setting each one aside carefully. He then reaches up and releases the button on your jeans. As you kick the jeans off, he folds them carefully and puts them beside the boots. That's Jaehyun for you, always conscientious. Still keeping eye contact, he leans forward, pressing a hot kiss to the center of your sex. 

Your hips jerk forward, involuntarily. He laughs, the sound soft and sensual against your pubic bone. Still tortuously slow, he peels off your panties and sets them aside. You're now completely naked in front of him, and part of you wants to blush and cover up. It's not like you're a virgin (being you, you definitely messed with some of the handsomer trainees) but this is the first time since debuting that you've allowed yourself to be this open, this intimate with someone. Let alone another idol.

But the other part sees Jaehyun, kneeling before you, looking up at you with eyes full of lust, admiration, everything, and it's this that leads you to nod, in answer to his silent question. With a sigh he buries his face in you. In contrast to before, his lips are now slow, lazy almost, feathering kisses down, down, until his tongue sinks into you. It's all you can do to keep from moaning as he pleasures you, hitting all the right spots that make you want to buck your hips, to scream, to sink your hands into his hair and pull him away because it's just so much. Jaehyun's middle finger slips into you as he turns his attention to your clit, sucking the sensitive skin, finger pumping in and out, bringing you so close to the edge and then-

Your orgasm ripples through you like a warm tide, bringing heat to all your extremities and making you relax, melting into Jaehyun's touch. He straightens up, smiling a smile slick with _you_. You reach for the catch on his pants, lazily.

"We don't have to-" he starts, even though the tenting on his pants is obvious, the shake of his body as he holds himself away from you.

"Fuck me, Jae," you say, brushing your hand over his cock for emphasis.

It's all he needs. With a groan, he quickly strips out of his pants and underwear, wrapping your legs around his waist again and walking over to the soft green room loveseat. He lays you down gently, reaching into his wallet for a condom. Rolling it on quickly, he lines up at your entrance. With a final confirmation look from you, he pushes in, slowly. Jaehyun's wide, wider than you're used to, and you hiss slightly at the burn as he fills you, stretching you. He stills, letting your body adjust. When you're ready, you nod, and he begins to move. Slowly at first, letting you acclimate, then faster, harder. You throw your head back, crying out softly, your hips rising to meet his thrust. He fills you so perfectly, every stroke bring you closer, higher. Jaehyun hums into your neck, a hum which turns into a moan as you set your nails into his back. His pace increases, and you feel the loveseat shaking as he pounds into you, delicious pleasure singing through your veins. You can feel your orgasm coming, until you feel his pace becoming sloppier, then it rips through you like a tidal wave, a mind-numbing tide of pure pleasure, just as he finishes, releasing a string of Korean curse words into the crook of your neck.

You lie there for a few moments, sweaty and spent, both riding out your highs. Then the sound of a phone vibrating brings you spinning back to earth. Jaehyun leans over with a grunt and pulls his phone out of his pants pocket. "What is it?" you say.

"Johnny's mad, I was supposed to go with them for Korean barbecue," he says, a little sheepishly.

"Well, it's not like you didn't eat while you were here," you say.

Jaehyun whips his head up to look at you, eyes shocked. Then he bursts out laughing, head falling onto your shoulder. "And to think I used to bring you Milkis."

"We're not children anymore, Jaehyun," you say, a little sadly. This was nice, but with the no dating rule (least of all someone from your own company) you know this was probably a one-time thing.

"You're right," he replies. "And you know what that means?"

You look down at him, and his eyes are serious. "What?"

"We can make our own decisions," he says.

His eyes are so soft, so earnest. "Really?"

"Really," he says, kissing you. "I want this. I want you."

You bite your lip. Jaehyun, SM's prince, is really lying naked next to you, confessing. "And I want you."

Jaehyun himself blushes, that angelic smile sliding back onto his face. "We'll find a way to make this work. But for now...maybe we should get dressed, before your manager comes looking for you."


	4. Lucas - Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Right after the Weekly Idol cameras cut, your manager drags you backstage and screams at you. Shaking and hurt, locked in your own bedroom by SM, you are surprised when you hear a knock on your window. Rated M.

As soon as the director calls cut, your manager Yeji storms over. "What the hell was that?" she hisses, grabbing your forearm and dragging you backstage. You can feel her long, dirty nails digging into your skin. 

"What was what?"

"I don't know if it's because you're foreign or just extraordinarily stupid, but what part of 'don't let your lips touch' don't you understand?" she shrieks.

"I'm sorry, it was part of the game," you say, feeling defensive. "You know what Pepero is, why didn't you signal me to stop? Isn't that what you do best?"

You don't realize you've been slapped until it's over. Yeji's hand connects with your cheek, but just barely, a sharp sting across your skin. At least she's careful not to leave a mark. "I don't care if you're SM's sweetheart, or any of that other nonsense. You were nothing when you came to SM, and it's only thanks to my careful curation that you're even allowed on that comeback stage. So while you're under my management, you follow my orders. You hear me?"

She slapped you. She fucking slapped you. You look around to see if anyone else has noticed, but it seems that the other managers have discreetly shepherded both groups out, leaving just some crew members who, honestly, probably want to an idol brought down a peg or two. "Yes, unnie," you spit.

"Good," Yeji says, patting your cheek gently. "Be a doll, get that retouched in makeup, will you?" 

Making a big show of dialing an SM number, she walks away, heels clicking.

As soon as she's gone, all the fight leaves you. Yeji's thrown bitch fits before, but never like this. _You were nothing when you came to SM_. "No," you whisper, as you feel that hot, panicked feeling you haven't felt since trainee days. That's what your instructors used to scream at you as they sat on your stomach to improve your vocal stamina, or forced you to stand in water for hours if you messed up a group dance. _Nothing. Nothing. Nothing._

One of the other managers stuffs a travel mask on your face and frogmarches you out onto the sidewalk, where a black SM van idles. "Go back to your dorm and don't leave," he growls. "Not until we've sorted out this mess."

You nod, numbly, as the manager slams the car door and the driver and pulls away from the curb. Normally you'd be sent home in a car with all your members, but it seems like this is really serious because you're alone. Before long, the driver pulls up to the SIREN dorm.

With a jerky nod of thanks, you hurry up the drive and into the house. SIREN lives in a pretty, modern bungalow in one of Seoul's quieter, gated neighborhoods, not far from where NCT and various other SM acts live. When dividing up rooms, it was quickly discovered that you're the only member who doesn't mind heights, so you got the attic bedroom to yourself. It's technically the smallest, but you get to live alone, and there's a skylight that you can easily squeeze through to get onto the roof. 

You can hear some of the other members in the hallway, but you really don't feel like talking, so slink quietly up to your room. Your bed, littered with furry pillows and a few plushies, curls around you warmly as you flop onto it, face first. "FUCK!" you scream. All of this is so unfair - male idols do skinship all the time, and you're quite sure that were it not for your cute foreign girly girl image, nobody would be like this.

There's a tap on your window, the one that opens to the outside. Puzzled, you flip over and sit up. And almost scream. Outside, perched precariously on the roof, is none other than Lucas, with up a giant bag of takeout and that crooked, mischievous smile.

"What are you doing here?" you whisper, throwing open the hatch. Lucas climbs in, catlike, and flops down onto one of your beanbags. 

"Heard your manager chewing you out, figured you might need a pick-me-up," he says, shrugging. Without preamble, he opens the bag and starts pulling out boxes of dim sum. 

"Xuxi, what is all this?" you say. "I'm under house arrest, I'm not supposed to be seeing anyone."

He rolls his eyes. "When have we ever cared what the managers say?"

It's true. Though he came into SM later than you, at the tail end of your own training, you met at some rookies showcase and realized that you both had a bit of a rebellious streak. This included sneaking out (mostly to party with Dreamies) but also to go on crazy, late-night adventures. Though neither of you spoke anything close to the same language (his Korean and English were broken, and you knew no Cantonese) adrenaline didn't have a language. From midnight food crawls to breaking into the Seoul Grand Park, you and Lucas found respite from training in adventure. Since he moved to China with WayV, you haven't seen him much, but when he is in Korea, you always make sure to see each other.

As both of your language skills have improved (he's insisted on teaching you a few Cantonese phrases, mostly swears) you've gotten to know his personality better. Though he can come off as a bit of a bro, oftentimes taking jokes too far (you can't count the amount of times you've told him off for Fat Kun), you know that most of his worst traits come from being insecure. He's not as confident in his looks or abilities as he seems, and is genuinely a kind and caring person when he wants to be. Not to mention, those looks. He's always been a bit flirty with you, but he's like that with everyone. It's just become part of your friendship at this point. 

Lucas hands you chopsticks and a takeout box full of shu mai. Grabbing a piece, he pops it into his mouth whole. "Mm," he groans, his eyes widening, as they always do when he tastes something good.

"Enjoying yourself, Foodcas?" you tease.

"My parents are chefs," he says, mouth full. "I _know_ food. This is good."

Both of you dig in. True to his character, it seems that Lucas has ordered everything on the menu. Boxes full of buns, dumplings, and other little yummies soon litter your floor. Maybe it's that you haven't eaten for awhile, but you can feel yourself relaxing with each bite. Lucas is eating so fast, you're pretty sure he couldn't hold a conversation, but on most of your adventures, you had to communicate through mostly body language. Silence has never been uncomfortable for you two.

With a sigh, Lucas stretches out on your floor, patting his flat stomach. "That was good," he says. "I haven't eaten that much in awhile."

He allows himself about two seconds rest before pulling a bottle of rice wine out of the bag. Unscrewing the cap, he takes a big swig before offering it to you.

"Yeah, me neither," you say, taking a grateful gulp and lying down beside him. The fluffy white carpet tickles your back. "I've been dieting pretty hardcore for the comeback. Humans can't survive on rice and kimchi alone."

Lucas flips over onto his side, eyes wide. "Yeah, I've been meaning to ask. How are you holding up? I know this comeback is supposed to be, like, a really big deal."

"The collab of the decade," you say, sighing. "I mean, this isn't my first comeback, but now that SIREN has such an international following, there's a lot of pressure riding on us to make it perfect."

Lucas nods. "Yeah, I feel that. I'm having to fly back between China and Korea for my WayV and NCT U promos. It's messing me up, I literally introduced myself in Mandarin on Weekly Idol, don't know if you heard."

You laugh, taking another gulp of wine. "Multilingual problems. I literally speak so much Konglish, it's not even funny. They're always getting after me on vLives for slip-ups."

"It's a little 1984, isn't it?" Lucas says. "The way they control you here, I'm still not used to it."

You rub your cheek, remembering Yeji's slap. You know Lucas has gotten his fair share of shit for being foreign as well, but because of his looks and size, he's more untouchable. "Lucas, did you just make an Orwell reference? I didn't know you could read."

Lucas bursts out laughing, then rolls over and starts tickling you. "Take that back, I'm more than just a pretty face," he roars. 

"Yeah?" you screech, curling into a ball as his long fingers dig into your sensitive spots. "Says the guy who got into SM by modeling. What's the last book you read?"

He mumbles something, embarrassed, and you take the opportunity to flip the tables. Lunging forward, you push him onto his back. He's very ticklish under his chin and in his armpits, and you take the opportunity to climb on top of him and tickle him while he's vulnerable. "What was that?" you say. "I didn't hear."

"I--" Lucas can barely speak because he's laughing so hard, writhing and twisting under you. " _It_. I read _It_ , okay?"

You rear back, surprised, and it's only now that you realize you're essentially straddling him. Is the the rice wine that's creating this hot feeling zinging through your body? Or is it Lucas lying under you, hair messy from where it's rubbed on the carpet, starting up at you with those big brown eyes, uncharacteristically bashful.

"You read _It_?" you say. "But it's like 1,000 pages. And in English." And one of your favorite books. 

"I know," he says. "I had to look up a lot of words. Was long."

"Why did you do it, then?" You know Lucas, if he's not practicing, he's probably eating or working out. Maybe bothering WinWin or Ten, if he's feeling restless.

He looks up at you. "Do you remember that time we snuck out to go the cinema, the summer before you debuted?"

You nod. One night after training, you dragged him to see _It: Chapter One_ in theaters, and though he hates horror movies, Lucas grudgingly came. His high-pitched scream when Pennywise first appeared is something you still hold over him to this day.

"That was pretty much the last time we hung out before your debut, but I can still remember thinking, this is the life," Lucas says. "Training all day, crazy adventures at night. I was already thinking of ways to sneak around after our debuts, but then you went with SIREN, I got put with U and WayV..."

"Life got in the way," you agree. 

"I was in the airport one day, and saw _It_ on one of those little dollar paperback racks. It reminded me of you, so I bought it, thinking to give it to you as a gift, but..." his voice trails off. "I didn't see you for months, and it started collecting dust. This one night, I couldn't sleep, and I saw it on my shelf. I'd always wondered why you like Stephen King so much, so I opened it up."

Lucas reaches up, trailing a piece of your hair between those long, slim fingers. "It felt like a connection to you, even though you were so far away. Enjoying something you love so much. I thought we'd be able to talk about it, too, but every time I saw you after that, it felt too weird. To tell you that a Stephen King book reminds me of you."

There's something so soft, so sincere in his face, something you don't see often. It reminds you of why you like Lucas so much, Lucas in all his duality and insecurity and weird multilingual jokes. This warm feeling welling inside of you, that's not the wine. Carefully, you reach down and cup either side of his broad face with your hands, fingers tracing lightly over his cheekbones. Lucas sighs, eyes falling closed at your touch. 

"I've really missed you, Yukhei," you breathe. Lucas' eyes flash open. Where they were sincere and soft seconds ago, they now burn with a dark, fierce heat.

"Say it again," he says, Cantonese accent thickening.

"Yukhei."

This word is his undoing. In one fluid motion, Lucas sits up, one hand going to your waist, the other into your hair as his lips find yours. You've always assumed Lucas would be a good kisser (God knows, he's bragged about his numerous flings enough times) but actually kissing him is a whole different story. Lucas is best known as NCT's loud, goofy moodmaker, always expressing his true feelings and passions with little thought to the consequences. He's the same way now, kissing your lips like a parched man at an oasis. His hands, those big, broad hands he's so proud of, can't get enough of you, tangling in your hair, at your waist and down your thighs, squeezing your ass gently as he pulls you closer onto his lap. 

You respond in kind, pushing him back so he's propped against your bed. His hair, though it's been bleached (and dyed blue, most recently, before this chestnut hue), is soft as you run your hands through it. The shiver that wracks his whole body as you tug lightly at the coppery strands is enough to make you pause. Perched on his lap, you're looking down on him for once. Lucas looks so sexy right now, hair messy, lust-dark eyes with blown pupils, full lips swollen from your kisses. You wonder why, in all your adventures, you never went further than friendship. You and Lucas are both known as being huge flirts, and when you put two pretty flirts together, isn't that usually how the equation goes?

"What?" Lucas whispers. He's looking apprehensive, hands tightening on your hips, like he's afraid you're going to leave again. Maybe it's that childlike innocence, that wide-eyed expression he always gets when he eats. You couldn't bring yourself to taint a friendship that pure. But you're idols now. Nothing is pure or honest anymore - the bruise on your cheek is proof enough of that. _Just once_ , you think, _just once, I get to be selfish and do what I want._

"Kiss me, Yukhei." He's only too happy oblige. Wrapping your legs around his waist, pulling your lips back down to his, he lifts himself up onto your bed. A Rillakkuma plushie falls onto his head and he sets it aside, laughing slightly. 

He stops laughing when you settle on either side of his hips, grinding slowly, clothed pussy brushing against his quickly growing bulge. " _Diu_ ," he breathes. "That feels so good."

Internally, you smirk a little. Lucas is one of those guys who is all bravado in his personal life, but secretly soft and gushy. Him being a little submissive surprises you none. You grind your hips against him again, bringing out a hiss. His hands find your hips again, squeezing in warning. 

"I'm going to come, if you don't stop that," he growls.

"You know," you say, ignoring his warning and grinding your hips in a slow, sensual movement. "I've always wondered what you would be like in bed, Yukhei. You're such a tease, such a swagger when you're with the boys. What would they say if they knew how close I got you just from kissing? Or how much you like me on top of you?"

Lucas opens his mouth to answer, but all that comes out is this low, husky groan that sends heat shooting through you, down to the core. 

"Thought so." Pressing a soft, lingering kiss to his lips, you sit back, pulling off your shirt. He lies still, watching lazily as you unclasp your bra and drop it to the ground. Your pants and panties follow, dropped into a heap. You leave forward and begin unbuttoning his shirt. As you push the fabric off of his broad shoulders, you're not surprised, per se, by all the muscles that stare back at you, but impressed. Lucas might be an egghead, but if there's anything he likes more than food and fame, it's working out. You trace your hands down his chest, laughing softly as he shivers and bucks under your touch. Your fingers dip into that blessed v as you undo his belt and pull his pants down his hips. His black briefs follow, and just like that, you two are completely naked.

Lucas stares up at you, soft and hard and fierce and so many things all at once, as you reach for a condom in your dresser. "Don't you need-" he begins, eyebrows drawing together.

You shake your head. You won't admit it, but kissing him and asserting that bit of control has made you plenty wet. All you want now is him, buried deep inside of you. With a flourish, you roll the condom onto him and then, slowly, oh so slowly, you sink down onto him. 

A strangled gasp slips out from between Lucas's lips, and he cants his head back, twisting into your pillows in pure pleasure. You place your hands on his broad chest and begin to move. Lucas isn't exceptionally large or wide, but the fit is almost perfect, as you move, alternating between bouncing and long, languorous strokes that send spikes of pleasure all down your body, building up to your peak. Lucas bites his lip, trying so hard to suppress the lewd, broken mewls coming from him, but to little avail.

He's so vocal that you're afraid he's going to bring all your bandmates running in, so you wrap a hand around his head, bringing up him so that you're in a sitting position. Eyes widening at this new angle, Lucas takes some amount of control, snapping his hips, thrusting up into you as you grab handfuls of hair and kiss him deeply. You're close, you can feel it, and not for the first time, you bless your idol's endurance. Lucas has no signs of slowing down as he continues to thrust, dropping two fingers to your clit and massaging gently. Pleasure spikes through you, and with the combined sensation of his fingers and his cock, you come hard. The wave of pure bliss has you feeling boneless, but Lucas, a bead of sweat rolling down his golden brow, continues to thrust, and you get the sense that he needs a little push, that extra bit of stimulation. You break away from the kiss and pull on his hair, exposing his throat to you. 

All it takes is one bite, a nip really, just under his collar bone, and then he's swearing in like three languages at once, his hips stuttering, hands so tight on your back that you think you might bruise. You still as he comes down, allowing him to lift you carefully off him, and dispose of the condom. 

You lie on your back, staring up at the ceiling as he walks back over the bed and lies down, snuggling into your shoulder. Your hands go instantly to his hair, and for a while you lie there, quietly stroking his soft locks. Neither of speak, afraid to break the spell. Then, a sudden thought hits you.

"Lucas, you said I remind you of _It_. Have you actually read the ending?"

"No," he admits, low laugh vibrating through your entire body. "I gave up around page 500. What happens?"

"You'll just have to read it on the plane," you say. "Two words: child orgy."

You expect him to laugh, but instead, his arms tighten around you. "Fuck. I really wish you didn't mention that."

"The orgy? That's so Stephen King."

"No, China," he says. "I have to go back."

"Aren't you promoting with us?"

"We're heading back in two weeks, after the music video shoot," he says. "Our comeback overlaps with yours, so we're not touring with you."

"Fuck," you breathe. All the warm feelings, all the reunion and post-nut happiness is draining out you faster than ramen water through a sieve.

"We can still..." Lucas trails off.

"Lucas, don't," you say. Making any kind of promise or trying to make any kind of solution will just make it worse. "Just...be here with me. In the here, in the now."

"Okay," he says, pressing a kiss into your hair, though you can't quite miss the note of disappointment in his voice.


	5. Jeno Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Following your Weekly Idol escapades and the beating you get from your manager after, you just need to blow off some steam. Luckily Jeno, your friend and sometimes fuckbuddy since training days, is there to help. Rated M.
> 
> WARNING: this chapter references past manager abuse, so if that is something that will bother you, you might want to skip it.

"This is such bullshit!" you scream. You pace back and forth, hands fisted into your hair.

Behind you, Jeno quietly sits on his bed, unbuttoning the white oxford the stylists put him into. Right after the show taping ended, your manager yelled at you in front of everyone, basically calling you a dumb foreigner slut. For one peck. Honestly, you couldn't deal with SM and its weird sex rules sometimes. Most times, really, with how closely they monitored you and all of your activities. Luckily, you'd had plenty of practice sneaking out to the Dreamies' dorm during training, and so when Jisung had opened the door, he'd just pointed to Jeno's room.

"Idols play pepero all the time, it's like one of the fan's favorite things," you rant. "But no, because I'm a foreigner, because I'm a girl, because I'm sweet little maknae Mai who doesn't even know what a kiss is, I'm not allowed."

Jeno sighs. "I'm sorry, I wish I say anything more helpful. But you know how the managers are."

At this, you look at him. You know there had been some dicey stuff with his own manager a while ago, including her leaving Renjun in the rain without an umbrella, and being too touchy with Jeno himself. He'd never directly addressed it, but he had seemed immensely relieved when she left for another company. "I'm sorry, it's really not that big of a deal," you say. "It'll blow over if Yeji doesn't kill it, always does."

He shakes his head, stretching back, eyes falling closed. "It is, though. Sex stuff always is. Remember how much people freaked out when fans saw a condom in the background of that idol's livestream?"

"It's like we're dolls," you say, flopping onto the bed beside him. "Like they can do anything they want to us, and suffer none of the consequences."

Jeno places a hand over yours, thumb flicking back and forth over your wrist absently. "I just wish there was a way we could speak out. You know, tell people how controlling they really are."

"You think we don't try?" you say. "Remember that livestream where Taeyong literally called out that producer? Or when there was that video of Jaehyun and Johnny being screamed at by their manager, but the staff made them delete it?"

Jeno brings your hand to his lips, pressing a kiss across the knuckles. "If anyone's going to challenge the norm, it's you," he says, softly.

You look at him. You've known Jeno since you were young trainees together. Being two good-looking, talented teens, it was only natural that your friendship had turned sexual in its later years. You've messed around a decent amount of NCT Dream (hooking up with Haechan before your debut, kissing Jaemin on at least a few occasions, once planting a big drunken one on Mark, who blushed furiously) but with Jeno, it was simple. Just sex, no feelings. Sure, you might talk about your deepest darkest inner secrets, usually after you'd finished fucking the brains out of each other, but you definitely had no feelings for each other. That comfort, that sense of peace you feel around him, that warm feeling you get when he flashes that eye-smile, that's just loving your best friend.

"I'm so tired," you say. "I'm so tired of all the acting, all the smiles, all the fakeness."

"I know," Jeno says, pulling you into his chest. Strong arms wrap around you, and his chin presses into the top of your head. 

"Do you think it's all worth it?" you say, tracing a finger up one of his prominent arm veins.

"I don't know," he replies, massaging gentle circles into your back. "I kind of turn everything off, honestly, when I go out for shows and stuff. When I have to smile and be Korea's boyfriend and all, I put on that face. The Jeno face. It's only when I get back here and I'm alone with my own thoughts that I wonder, _what the hell am I doing with my life_?"

You look up at him. Sure, you and Jeno are usually honest with each other, but that optimism and quick smile aren't part of his act. It's not like him to be so cynical. "Are you okay, Jeno? Did something happen?"

He looks away, jaw clenched. "I just heard that...that manager-noona, the one who left years ago. She's coming back."

"Oh no," you say, hands tightening protectively. "Jeno, why would they do that, don't they know?"

"Everyone knows," he snaps. "Everyone at SM knows and they didn't fucking do anything about it then and they won't now."

He's heating up, you can feeling the tautness in his body. And the worst part is, all of this abuse from the managers, all of their control and everything they force on you, you can't do anything about it. You've considered leaving once or twice, but the chances of being released are slim to none, even with legal action. Kris Wu is still technically managed by SM, and you don't even want to think about Tao and Luhan. 

There is one thing, though, that SM can't take away. "Hey, hey," you say, catching Jeno's angular jaw in your hand, gently forcing him to look down at you. His dark eyes are unusually serious, none of that kittenish shine that he gets when he smiles. "Jeno, look at me. We are our own people, okay? They can't take that away from us. And if she tries anything with you again..."

"Yeah?" he says, hand tightening on your lower back.

"She doesn't get to have you," you say, leaning in and kissing him. At first he's still and it's like kissing a handsome Korean statue, but then he relents, kissing you back with that strong, sure tenderness that is Jeno.

When it comes to sex, Jeno likes to take his time. Kissing you again and again with those soft, full lips that taste like that melon soda he loves so much, hands cupped on the side of your face like you're the most important thing in the world to him. It's soft and sweet and so wholly him, and you love that. Wait, what? _Love?_ Where did that thought come from? You shake your head, trying to clear it. He pulls back, eyes unfocused and hazy. 

"Hi," he says softly. "You okay?"

You look up at him. So long ago, you wrote him off as just a friend. In later years, as a friend you fucked. But after everything, all that you've been through together, your brain has the audacity to throw around the word love? You're doing entirely too much thinking. "Never better," you say, and reach for him again. You take control of the kiss, winding your hands through his dark hair, nipping at his lips the way he likes. Jeno's response is small (he's not really the vocal or overly touchy type) but you can feel his hands tighten on your hips as you climb onto his lap, can hear the soft sigh as your lips drop down to his neck.

"I probably shouldn't leave a mark," you whisper against his skin, though the desire to make him flinch and shiver, to mark him as yours, is killing you.

"It's fine," Jeno rasps. "Just do it low."

You're a little surprised - Jeno is always very conscientious during sex, little thoughts or anxieties about not pleasing you or being too loud and messy often hindering his enjoyment. Though he always makes sure both of you come, and definitely enjoys the act, he always reins himself in quite closely, so you're surprised that he'd let you do this. But you're not going to squander the chance to make him squirm and scream.

"Lie down," you say, sliding a hand over his chest. Jeno obeys, smiling that little kitten smile at you as he goes. You push his cotton t-shirt off him impatiently, and set to work. Feathering little kisses down his neck, you choose a place just over his heart. Softly brushing your teeth over him at first, sucking a little, you bite him gently.

The response is immediate, a low, throaty moan, his hands tightening their grip on the bedsheets. Satisfied, you kiss further down, nipping and kissing and sucking as you go, leaving little crescent moons on his chest, those ridiculous chocolate abs, his v-shaped hips. When you get to his belt, you pause, looking up at him. This is always important, especially given his history with that manager, and sometimes he doesn't like you going down on him. But today, Jeno gives you a tiny nod. 

You undo his belt and push his pants and underwear aside. Pressing soft kisses down the shaft, you shift up as you take him in your mouth. Jeno gasps, hands moving to your hair, but he doesn't take control, instead holding your hair out of your face as you begin to bob your head. His legs are rigid, as he works hard to keep himself from thrusting into your mouth. Your hands press into his hips as you continue to suck, using your tongue expertly in all the places he likes. He's close, you can feel, based on the tightening of his thighs and the moans he can't quite suppress, but before he comes-

"Wait." You pull back instantly. Oh shit, was this too much? "Let me...touch you too. I want to make you feel good."

"You sure?"

"I'd rather not finish in your mouth," he says. "Somewhere else, maybe, in a bit?"

You nod. Jeno rolls over and onto you. His hands, those veiny yet graceful hands that always mesmerize you when you watch him dance, make quick work of your clothes. Before long, you're naked in front of him. Grabbing your thighs gently, Jeno slides down so that his face rests between your legs. At the first stroke of his tongue, you let out a groan. Jeno might come off as a little shy in his personal life, but he's a demon when it comes to eating you out. He's not afraid to go deep, tongue stroking places you didn't think were possible, using his fingers when his tongue can't do the job alone. Jeno works you with the same precision as his dancing - sensual, smooth, hard when need be. He's an artist in every sense.

Jeno adds two fingers, moving to suckle on your clit, which has your hips bucking off the bed. "I'm close, Jeno, shit, ah--"

With one curl of his long fingers, right in that sweet spot, you see white. Waves of pleasure flow through your body, and you grip Jeno's sheets for dear life as the orgasm hits you, heat spearing all your limbs. After a few moments, you open your eyes. Jeno is still between your legs, propped up on one elbow, watching you like a kitten that got the cream.

"What?" you say, breathless.

"Nothing, just you," he says, flashing that blessed eye smile.

"Shut up and fuck me, Jeno-jam," you say. Though you just came, you can feel yourself gearing up again as he puts on a condom and slides into you. Stilling for a moment to let you adjust, he begins to move, thrusts long and fluid.

You look up at him, at his serene face, eyes closing a bit, and marvel at him. He's so pretty, so peaceful, so kind, he doesn't deserve all the shit he's gotten over the years. And that's the beauty of this all - out of everything SM has taken from you, this is one thing they can't touch. 

His eyes flash open as you stroke your hands down his back and biceps, scratching slightly, a moan slips between his lips.

"You like that?" you say.

Jeno nods, eyes falling closed again, teeth digging into his bottom lip. You set your nails into his back, drawing little red lines that you're sure will show up soon. It's like a wake-up call for him, and he starts moving. Every thrust becomes harder, faster, the sheer power of him on full display as he thrusts mindlessly into you, hands clenched, white-knuckled into the pillow on either side of your head. Thank god for the thick walls, because the sounds he's making would have the Dreamies knocking on the door in a second. 

You open your eyes, and are surprised to see an expression you've never seen on Jeno before - his face twisted in pleasure, his mouth falling slightly open, strands of sweaty hair falling into those beautiful, beautiful eyes.

With a grunt, he makes one last thrust that has your head spinning as your second orgasm hits you, though on a much smaller scale, and collapses onto you, face buried in the crook of your neck." _Saranghae_ ," he whispers.

You stiffen. Letting him move off you and dispose of the condom, you roll over onto your side, mind working furiously. He couldn't have seriously meant that, could he? A hot wave of panic jerks through you. No, in all your years of being friends with benefits, that has been your number one unspoken rule. No feelings. Feelings lead to attachment, an attachment leads to a relationship, and a relationship leads to breakups and heartbreak. You can't lose Jeno like that, you just can't. So it's with that in mind that you crack a joke.

"That's one way to cheer me up," you say, giving him a little punch on the arm.

"Mm?" Jeno says, reaching down to stroke your long hair fanning across his shoulder. It's soft, almost loving. _Fucking hell_. 

"I'm just glad we can talk and be like this, you know," you say quickly, words falling all over each other in your effort to get them out. "You know, as friends, _chingus_. I love that about us."

" _Chingus_?" Jeno says. You take a breath, willing that not to be a slight note of disappointment in his voice.

"Actually, no, you're right," you say. "I'm older than you."

"By like a month," he mumbles."

"Call me _noona_ , bitch." You reach under his chin and start tickling. Jeno jerks away, laughing, strong arms coming up to protect his bare chest. This is the way it should be, you think. Nothing can come in between that, not even the little flutter in your stomach that bubbles up as he laughs, those half-moon eyes scrunched up as he rolls into a ball, calling truce. It's simple, easy, you and Jeno like you've always been.


	6. V Live (Ensemble)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which you, Kun, Taeyong, and the Dreamies engage in a cake-making contest on V Live. Rated G.

It's been a week since the slight - ahem - incident on Weekly Idol, and your manager Yeji has been on the warpath for rehabbing your image. As expected, the amount of Tweets and fansite posts about you and Haechan have skyrocketed. Then again, so have album sales, so no one's really complaining. But people are also starting to question your innocent, cutesy persona, so the managers are cooking up something to show everyone the "real" you.

"This is ridiculous," you say. Yeji called you at 5 AM this morning, informing you that you would be participating in a V Live with some NCT members. After a hurried breakfast, you're stuffed into a company car and whisked off to set. They can't use either of your actual kitchens (for fear of sasaengs finding out your addresses, and also the fact that people actually live there), so you're using the backlot usually used to shoot SM's music videos.

After getting your skin lightened about three shades in makeup, wardrobe stuffs you into this ridiculously poofy skirt and blouse that make you look like a 50's housewife from Candyland. To complete the look is a bunny hat with moving ears. "I look twelve," you grumble, as you stand on set for final lighting checks.

"You look twelve?" Renjun says. He's also been given a bunny hat, along with a striped shirt and suspenders. "I'm older than you, if you look twelve, I'm scared."

You shake your head. The concept of today, as you've been told, is a cake making contest. NCT Dream, Kun, Taeyong and you are going to be splitting into teams to bake cakes. Lots of cutesy, skinship stuff that you're fairly sure all of you have grown out of. But Yeji has insisted on using this as the opportunity to bring back your cute maknae image, so here you are, dressed like the cakes you're about to make.

"Hey, it's all going to be fine," Kun says, a gentle smile on his face. "V Lives are a chance for us to be more authentic and to really show our love to fans."

Chenle, squeezing distractedly on his own bunny ears, snorts slightly but you disregard it. You've come to know most of the Dream members over the years, given your close age. You're probably closest with Jeno, Jaemin and Renjun, a weird kind of bromance that you've nursed since trainee days. Jisung's a little quiet and Chenle can be a bit of a brat, and Haechan needs no explanation.

Over in the corner, Taeyong absently chews his nails. He's one of those older members you haven't talked to much - as much as you admire him as dancer and a sunbaenim, he's always seemed so intimidating. In addition to his ridiculous anime-like good looks, he's an expert dancer, rapper, vocalist even. No way would he ever want to talk to you, even if you are Girl-Mark.

"I'd rather reenact my milk commercial on every variety show than do this," Jeno says.

"Don't you already do that, Nojam?" you say. He bumps his shoulder into you, flashing that eye smile he's so famous for.

"Well, Renjun and I are about to whip all your asses," Jaemin says. "I happen to be-"

"Hey, watch your language," their manager snaps. He signals the crew setting up the various cameras and they scurry away. "Remember, today's concept is light, fluffy...convince your fans that you're all great friends having a great time."

"Sounds so grim for a friendly concept, coming out of him," you whisper in English, to which Jaemin, Jeno, and Chenle snort.

Yeji gives you a five second countdown, then you're live. "Hi guys," you say, pasting on a huge smile and beginning your lines, as you've rehearsed. "Preparing for this comeback, I haven't had much time to sit down or really relax...in fact, I haven't really been myself at all. But for me, baking has always been pretty therapeutic. And so I've asked a few friends to come help me bake and relax a little today. Boys?"

The guys file in, megawatt smiles in place. After their introductions, Kun grabs a mission card and begins to read. "Today, we'll be breaking up into teams of two. Each team gets one hour to successfully mix and bake a cake, while answering fan questions."

Behind the camera, the managers point to the iPads, which have all been mounted behind the baking stations. "The teams have been divided up as follows. Jeno and Jaemin, Renjun and Haechan, Jisung and Chenle, Mai and Taeyong. As we have an odd number, I'm appointing myself judge."

Jeno and Jaemin whoop, bumping fists. Haechan, decked out in the fluffy bunny hat and overalls, rolls his eyes but takes his place at the station nonetheless. "Hey, why do you get to be judge?" Chenle whines.

"What, never baked a cake before?" Renjun taunts. "Do you leave that up to your personal chef?"

Chenle lunges for him, but Kun, having experience handling their antics, quickly steps between them. "Well, actually," he says. "You all might be having some trouble, because it says here that you're not allowed a recipe."

"What?" Jaemin splutters. "No recipe?"

"That's what it says," Kun says, grinning. "Bakers, to your stations, please."

You all walk to the baking stations. "Hi," you say, a little shyly, as Taeyong comes beside you.

"Hey," he says, and you're surprised to hear how soft his voice is. You've always imagined him to be a bit cold, like his stage presence, but in person, he seems more quiet than anything, a little less sure, hands with freshly-bitten nails shoved into his pockets.

"I don't suppose you have any experience baking cakes?" you say, trying to break the ice a little.

"Actually," he says, grabbing two aprons from the baking station. "I do. Us hyungs usually bake cakes for the members on their birthdays, we being me while Johnny and Taeil goof around. I usually use a recipe, but it shouldn't be hard to replicate."

At his gesture, you turn around, deft hands slipping the apron over your head and poofy skirt. As he leans in to tie it in a neat bow, you catch a whiff of his cologne - something fresh and citrusy, a little hint of sweetness. A slight cough from Yeji reminds you that, no, you're not here to sit and smell the roses, so to speak. "Thanks," you say, turning and flashing him a big smile. "Can I help you with yours?"

Taeyong raises an eyebrow, but hands you the apron he was in the midst of unrolling. Leaning up (he's taller than you, but not by much) you slip the loop over his head, careful not ruffle his hair, and tie it at his slim waist. "There!" you giggle, clapping your hands together. "We're all ready to make a cake, Taeyong-oppa." _Take that, fan service._

You can see him stiffen a little bit in surprise at your sudden aegyo, but he takes it in stride. "Okay, so I think we should go with a simple base and then decorate it well. Red velvet's classy but also simple. That cool with you?" You nod.

"Okay," he says, grabbing two bowls and placing them on the station. "Do you want it dry or wet?"

"What?" you splutter, almost dropping the box of eggs you're getting from the fridge.

"I said, do you want dry or wet? Ingredients?" Taeyong says, slowly.

Oh, fuck. Of all the times for your Korean mental translation to be off. Your face burns a little as you open the carton of eggs. "Wet, if it's all the same to you," you say. Taeyong nods, silver hair flopping into his eyes, though you swear you see the edge of a smile as he bends down to grab the flour.

From the station next to you, you can hear the two maknaes arguing. "I wanted vanilla," Chenle whines. "Jisung, you know I don't like chocolate."

"More for me," Jisung snickers, then ducks as Chenle aims a batter-covered spatula at his head.

"Are you guys mixing already?" you say. 

"Yeah, it's kinda gluey though," Jisung says. "I'm not sure if you're supposed to put the eggs right with the flour, but..."

"That's cement, bruh," Jaemin says, putting his bowl into the mixer. "You're supposed to whip the eggs first, then add the dry ingredients."

"What kind of cake are you making then, NoMin?" you ask, question aimed at Jeno, who's trying to measure sugar against flour.

"White cake with a fruit topping," he says, face scrunching in concentration as he tries to pour the right ratio. "But we're calling it the Ten-Killer."

"Ten-Killer?"

"Ten hates fruits," Kun explains. "It's just his thing."

"He hates fruits? Good God, the more you know," you say. "Any other weird dietary quirks I should know about from you boys?"

"Mork loves apple juice," Chenle snickers.

"Yeah, and Johnny's dad invented coffee," Jaemin supplies. "But hey, Taeyong-hyung, aren't you into cat food?"

You turn to Taeyong. "Cat what?"

Taeyong shakes his head. "Oh, it was this thing...there was a cat that lived on our dorm roof, and I put cat food out for it, but it disappeared. They all think I ate it, but I'm sure Goyang-i ate it."

You can't suppress your snort in time. "What?" Taeyong says, looking a little hurt.

"Nothing," you say. Taeyong adopted a stray cat? Somehow, you just can't picture it. "You named the cat...Cat? Goyang-i means cat."

He shrugs. "I didn't get the chance to ask her name."

"Do you do that often? Ask animals their names?"

"Any animal has a name, if you listen hard enough," he says, sagely. "You just have to spend enough time around them."

"On the basis of what? They don't tell you, I'm sure," you say.

"On how it looks, on how it moves," Taeyong says, carefully pouring sugar and baking soda into the bowl. "How it speaks."

"Okay," you say, tilting your head to one side. "What's mine then?"

"You're not an animal," he says, giving you a look. You open your mouth to inform him that yes, in fact, humans are animals, but are interrupted by the Dreamies' loud banter.

"You sure about that, hyung?" Renjun calls. "You obviously haven't spent enough time around her."

"She'll give you a bite if you're not careful," Jisung adds. "Just ask Haechan."

You hear a heavy thump. Turning around, you see that Haechan has just dropped his mixing bowl onto the counter, hard. "Very funny, maknae," you say sweetly, though you stare daggers at him where the cameras can't see. If you can get your hands on him later, 

"I just meant you two tease each other a lot..." Jisung trails off, comprehension dawning.

"Like siblings!" Jaemin chimes in. "They say NCT and SIREN are like sibling groups, and that's so true, honestly."

"Okay, time for the first fan question," Kun says quickly. "Up first - Team Mai and Taeyong."

Right, you're supposed to be answering fan questions while baking while convincing the world that you're a sweet little cake fairy. Fucking fan service. "If you could switch bodies with a member of your group, who would it be?"

"Ooh," you say. _Think of something cutesy, think of something cutesy_. "Evie, she's so sunshiney and positive, she never has a bad day. She cares so much about our fans, she's always looking to give back, and I love that about her." And smokes like a chimney when you're at the dorm, but they don't need to know that.

Taeyong gives you the slightest of side-eyes, but contemplates his answer as he mixes the dry ingredients together. "Mark. He's given up so much to be here, leaving Canada so young, not seeing his family much, working three units at one point. Not only is he one of the hardest working guys we have, he's also this kind, genuine, really funny guy, someone we could all strive to be."

You swear his eyes flick to you when he says genuine. But this is a show, you think. Nothing is ever 100% genuine on here, Taeyong is more naive than you thought if he really thinks so. You make your way towards the mixing bowl, only to find Haechan already there, back to you. 

You tap your foot impatiently as you watch him hit a few buttons, then blade begins to whir. "You know, we never talked about what happened on the show," you whisper, low enough so the mics can't pick you up.

"What's there to talk about?" he says.

"Well, aside from you being a competitive little shit, the fact that I'm in hot water because you kissed me?"

"Are you saying that because you got a little slap on the wrist from your manager, or because you didn't want me to?" Haechan bites back. 

"Who says I wanted you to kiss me?" you hiss. "We were playing a game."

"Yeah, what you do best," he mutters darkly.

"What was that?"

"Oh, I'm Mai, this cute little maknae," he says, voice dripping aegyo. "I don't know anything about life, being genuine, actually caring about people, I didn't care when I kissed Haechannie at the party last y-"

You never get to hear the end of the sentence, because at that point, the bowl explodes. Whipped cream flies everywhere, splattering your face, hair, apron, ruining your poofy skirt.

"Nice look, Mai-noona," Chenle crows.

"Did he just cream his-" Renjun is cut off as Jaemin shoves a hand over his mouth.

Kun runs over to you, grabbing a dishtowel. "Oh, dear," he says, dabbing at your skirt with little success. "You might want to go change, it's pretty bad."

"No, I'm going to finish," you say, glaring at Haechan. If that little _thing_ thinks he can just talk to you how he likes and beat you at baking, he's sorely mistaken.

Marching back to your station, you pour the eggs into the dry bowl and grab a whisk. _Stupidlittlefuckingdemonspawnfullsun_ you think, angrily whipping the batter.

"You okay?" Taeyong says in English, from where he's preparing the buttercream frosting.

"What, you think getting creamed on by a boy is gonna stop me?" you say sarcastically. "Never has before." As soon as you say it, you want to take it back, but Taeyong bursts out laughing.

"I was not expecting that," he says, when he regains his composure.

"What?" you say innocently, pressing on the paws of your hat so the ears jump.

"I just didn't think you'd make that kind of joke," he says, switching back to Korean at a glare from his manager.

"Stick with me and you might be surprised," you say, shrugging.

Taeyong looks at you, really looks at you, for the first time that day. "You know, I never answered your question from earlier. What your animal name would be."

"Oh yeah?" you say.

"I think I know," he says, leaning in, a little smile quirking the side of his mouth. "You'd be-"

"Half an hour left!" Kun shouts, making you jump. "You should be putting your cakes in the oven to bake, if you haven't already."

You look down at the bowl - the batter is smooth and shining, thanks to your aggressive, anti-Haechan mixing skills. "Well, look at that," you say brightly. "Let's get it in, shall we?"

Pouring the batter into the mold, you put the cake into the oven. As you wait for everyone's cakes to bake, you laugh, chat, answer more fan questions, and before you know it, the timer's going off. Quickly, you run to the oven, pull out the cake, and deposit on the baking station.

"Three minutes left!" Kun yells. "Better start decorating."

"I got this," Taeyong says, deftly flipping the cake out of the mold and onto a serving plate. Grabbing a knife and the frosting, he smoothes on a layer, spinning the cake on the tray like a professional froster. You watch him, fascinated, at the way he focuses on the task so intently, at how nimble his fingers are as they smooth on layer after layer. It's then that you realize just how many guys are in NCT - he must have had so much practice. "Toppings?"

You hand him sprinkles, along with the edible velvet and sugar ribbons he picked out the pantry earlier. With expert precision, he dusts the top with a deep red layer of velvet, silver sprinkles on top, and sugar ribbons spelling out 케이크.

"A cake named cake, I like it," you say.

"Time!" Kun calls, just as Taeyong's placing the last ribbon. "Hands up."

You step back from your station, and look around at everyone else's final product. Jisung and Chenle's appears not to have risen, Jeno and Jaemin's has about two pieces of fruit on it in total (you recall them throwing more at other than actually decorating), Renjun and Haechan's...

"Mm, very good _,"_ Kun says, as he takes a bite of theirs. He's not acting, as he was when he politely took bites out of the other two groups, it's clearly a good cake. It also happens to be your favorite cake, tres leches with blackberries (substituted for strawberries) on top. Only one person in this room knows that fact about you.

"Red velvet, very appropriate," Kun says, walking over to inspect your cake.

"No way that's a red velvet...ice cream cake," Jeno says. Jaemin punches him.

"Chocolate, but nice try," you say.

" _It's so tasty, come and chase me,_ " Jisung croons. 

"You know that song's not really about ice cream, right?" Renjun deadpans.

"No, no, don't taint the maknae's ears," Jeno shrieks, running and clapping his hands over the bunny ears on Jisung's hat.

"I'm 18, who are you calling a maknae?" Jisung protests.

"Wow," Kun says loudly. "This is really good...whose idea was it?"

You open your mouth but Taeyong beats you to the punch. "Mai's," he says. "She was telling me about how much she admires our sunbaenims here at SM, she really wanted to make a cake to honor Red Velvet and all of the other great teachers we have."

You try your hardest not to let your mouth fall open. For everything Taeyong had said about being genuine, here he was playing the game for you. Helping you. "That's right," you say. "I just wanted to pay my respects in the sweetest possible way."

Everyone laughs indulgently except for Jaemin, who can't hide his snort. "Well, I hate to have to choose a winner, but after that powerful speech it looks like that's going to be Mai and Taeyong. We love our sunbaenims," Kun says.

"And our Czennies," Jaemin adds, grabbing a forkful of cake and shoving it towards the camera.

"Don't feed them yours, feed them ours," Renjun protests. "Much tastier."

As they squabble, Taeyong leans over to you. "The livestream's about to end, I can handle the cleanup. You should go get changed."

You nod, bowing a quick thanks. Taeyong's so much different than you expected - as cold and aloof as he appears onstage, he actually seems really down-to-earth, maybe even a bit shy in real life. _Funny old world_ , you think, grabbing a towel and stepping in front of the mirror in the dressing room. Closing your eyes, you begin wiping the congealed cream off of your face and hair. _Haechan's cream_. He's the only one you know of who knows your unique cake preferences, you think, the thought making you towel faster. He definitely made it just to piss you off, right?

You drop the towel, skin feeling hot. You need to get the fuck out of these clothes and off this set. Straightening up, you start to edge the strap of your cream-soaked dress off your shoulder, but stop as you realize that you're no longer alone in the room. A figure stands at the door, leaning casually against the frame.

"Excuse me," you say carelessly, turning around. "I'm in here, what-" you stop as you realize who it is.


	7. Taeyong Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which you realize that under it all, Taeyong is just a big softie with a taste for red velvet cake...and you. Rated M.

You turn, and find Taeyong standing in the doorway. "-are you doing?" you finish. "Oh."

"Sorry, I can come back," he says, ducking his head. In his hands are two plates of your cake.

"No, it's fine," you say. "Just give me a second." Darting behind the partition, you quickly strip out of your dress and pull on the silk robe you wore earlier in makeup. Pulling your hair up into a knot, you walk back over to Taeyong. He's still leaning against the door, chewing on his thumbnail. As you walk over, he drops his hands, blushing slightly.

"Hi," he says, offering you one of the plates.

"Thanks Taeyong-oppa," you say brightly, taking a bite. True to Kun's word, it is really good, just the right blend of red-dyed chocolate and buttercream. Taeyong watches you nervously. "It's good."

He cracks a smile, for the first time that day. "I'm sorry about this whole thing, Haechan can be a little bit..."

"He's Haechan," you say, sitting at the vanity and grabbing a hairbrush. Taeyong walks over and leans against the couch behind the styling area. "The producers should've known, if they didn't want something to happen, they shouldn't have put us in the same VLive."

"You really are Girl Mark," he says, shaking his head. "Hyuck has it out for both of you."

"I wish people would stop saying that," you say, flashing a rueful smile as you work out a knot. "Makes me feel like I can't really be myself. Isn't it enough to just be Mai?"

Taeyong nods. "I get that, more than you would believe."

"What?" you say, tilting your head. "Is being the leader, visual, main rapper and dancer not enough? You might've missed the boat to get maknae though, sorry to say."

"No, that's exactly it," he says. "You know how SM is, how they love their visuals. Because of how I look, they've always forced this cold, distant persona on me, but that's just not who I am."

You look at him, really look at him, at the silver hair, the impossibly pretty, angular face. The dark bags that even makeup can't quite erase, the beginnings of lines around his eyes. Just enough imperfections to remind you that he is, in fact, human. "So who is Taeyong-oppa?"

"I wish I could tell you," Taeyong says grimly. "Sometimes, I forget myself, forget what I actually am like when there are no cameras around. Maybe all that time in the dungeon made me into SM's puppet."

"There's no way that's true," you say. "You told me yourself, you adopted a cat, you bake cakes for your members. Is that something a puppet would do?"

"But what if, somehow, I knew that the cat would make a good story?" he says, hands starting to twist in the fabric of the couch. "I didn't bake cakes for all my friends before I joined SM, what if I did it because that's what a good leader would do?"

"We all play the game at points," you say. "Our job title is idol, for God's sake, you don't achieve perfection from being ordinary."

Taeyong walks over, pressing his hands into the back of your leather styling chair. "What would it be like if we were just that? Ordinary?"

You look at him in the mirror, at the desperation and anguish in his eyes, the hard set of his jaw. You wish there were a way to take that all away, to bring him back to that grinning, cat-loving boy you saw flashes off during the bakeoff. But how? "Would you want that?" you say, laying down the hairbrush.

"I don't know," he says. "Every day, I question more and more why I wanted to do this in the first place."

You use your foot to spin slightly, so that you're facing him. Taeyong pulls his hands back, where they fall awkwardly to his sides.

"We're artists," you say. "You know it, that feeling in your blood, that need to dance and sing and be seen, that's all something we have. God knows, it's what got us through our time in the dungeon, as you say."

"We're engineered," he protests. "Our words, our looks, even most of our lyrics are edited."

"Not you," you say.

"What do you mean?"

"I've seen you tell off managers during lives, and you do produce your own stuff. _Whip me more so I can feel you more_ ," you say, hoping that his original lyrics will cheer him up a little. " _Shorty give me whip-whiplash._ "

A laugh, a real, surprised, laugh, bursts from Taeyong's lips. "Oh God, I'd hoped everyone had forgotten about that."

"So it caused a bit of an uproar," you say. "You obviously have a lot of passion for writing, and whoever she was, I'm sure she enjoyed your lyricism."

"That was about my sister," he says quickly.

"Bullshit, I thought you were all about being genuine."

"Fine," he says, a little grin coming onto his face. "No, it wasn't about my sister. It was about this girl from back home, someone I'd been dating in secondary before I joined SM. We tried to make it work, but..."

"The no dating clause."

"Not even, I would've if she'd wanted to," he says. "But you know how it is, long nights, busy days, then after you debut..."

Taeyong runs a hand through his hair, and for the first time that day, he looks truly miserable. "Only an idol can understand an idol," you say softly.

His eyes flash up to yours. "Do you, though?" Stalking forward, his hand wrap around the arms of your chair, trapping you. "I heard your manager talking to you earlier, this whole thing was a stunt to rehab your image. And all that oppa stuff, that flirting with the Dreamies, that was all fanservice. You play the game so hard, it's incredibly. Does it bother you, what they've turned you into?"

He's so close, the ends of his silvery hair almost falling onto your face, those intense brown eyes burning into yours. In this moment, he's so raw, so open, so different from what you expected and yet so much the oppa you've grown up idolizing all those years. "Does it bother _you_?" you answer. 

Taeyong looks at you, full lips parted. His eyes flick down to caress your face, your eyes, down to your lips. It's this act, this energy burning between you that makes you reach forward, running a thumb over his bottom lip. He exhales a long sigh at the contact, eyes falling closed. Taking this as a sign of encouragement, you make one more pass over his lip before moving out to his cheek, running a butterfly's touch over the pale, porcelain skin, tracing the apples of his cheeks before skimming down to caress his jaw.

As your thumbs brush over his temples, Taeyong's eyes flutter open. He breathes your name, a long, mournful sound, as he bends helplessly toward you, cupping your jaw as he kisses you. It's soft, innocent, one of those kisses you see in dramas after eight episodes of angst and charged looks. Kissing him is like drinking in pure air, his lips are hesitant, almost shy, as they move against yours. It's the kiss that he might have given you after your first or second date, after weeks of flirting and stares across the room at lecture, after a cup of coffee or two. 

But this isn't university, it's SM, where you could be caught at any moment or fired for daring to even kiss like this. Your hands move from his face to his hair, hands running through hair that changes color nearly every time you see him, pulling him closer. You draw his lower lip towards you, a simple action, but it's like a wakeup call for him. A low groan emits from the back of his throat, Taeyong presses closer like he's suffocating, and you're the only thing that can save him, lips burning against yours so hard you're breathless. His hands shift from the arms of your chair to your thighs, where he grips tight. 

You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him flush against you. You know you don't have much time before Yeji or some staffer bursts in, so feel no shame as you roll your hips slightly, brushing against his rapidly growing bulge. Taeyong's head drops to your neck, breathing out a soft curse. "That feels so good," he whispers, in a husky, completely whipped sounding voice.

"Yeah?" you say, a smile coloring your voice as you bring your hands back up to his hair, tugging slightly. Taeyong shivers - actually shivers - at the contact, a moan falling from his lips. "You like having your hair pulled like this? You like me in control?"

"Yes," he breathes. "I want--"

You stop abruptly, stilling your body. Taeyong all but whines at the lack of contact, eyes flashing up to yours, pupils dark and blown. "What do you want, oppa?"

"Touch me, tease me, feel me up, I don't care," he says. "Fuck SM."

"Fuck SM," you repeat, and pull his face back to yours, crushing your lips together. Grabbing the lapels of his jacket between your trembling hands, you push him towards the couch. Lust burns through you, along with the heady, head-spinning feeling of power, as you push him on his back, straddling him on the small couch. You never expected him to be this responsive or submissive, and damn you if it's not incredibly hot. Roughly grabbing a handful of his hair, you pull him up into a sitting position, thrilling at his soft groan. You pull back so that his throat is exposed, peppering the delicate skin with kisses as you push his jacket off. Next is his shirt, and you're pleased, if not entirely surprised, at all the lean muscle that greets you. You knew Taeyong is considered a visual, but this is something else.

His hands are less sure on the sash of your robe, but you nod in encouragement as he pulls the knot free and pushes the fabric off of your shoulders, leaving you in only your lingerie. It's baby blue and lacy, to match today's concept, and your ego gets a boost as his eye widen. Biting his lip, he reaches up tentatively and brushes one hand against a breast. Sighing, you lean into his touch, which he takes as encouragement. Cupping them in those delicate artist's hands, he squeezes lightly, one hand snaking around the back to release the clasp. The lacy fabric falls away, and his head drops, silver strands tickling your collarbone as he draws a nipple into his mouth, sucking lightly. You moan, pressing in close to him and tugging on his hair, encouraging him. Switching to the other breast, his gentle kiss hardens, using his teeth slightly, making you shudder and shake as heat shoots towards your center. One hand traces down between your legs, a long finger tracing the thin fabric of your panties, and you can hear his sharp intake of breath as he feels how wet you are.

Taeyong gaze dips up to yours again, tongue darting out as he moistens his lips slightly. "Is this okay? I want to..."

You nod. "Whatever you want."

Like lightning, Taeyong shifts so that's he's lying over you. Eyes mischievous, he kisses his way down your stomach, keeping eye contact. Using his teeth, he expertly peels off your panties, casting them aside with a sharp flick of his head, leaving you completely exposed. If there's any shyness, any residual awkwardness as being with him, you forget it all as he presses soft, teasing kisses to the insides of your thighs. The moment when his tongue presses into you has you moaning, bucking your hips off the couch, though his hands are quick to catch and pin. Taeyong works you like he works everything - that intensity, that precision that he dances with, it's all translated here as he kisses, sucks, uses his tongue to stroke inside you until you're a writhing, sobbing mess. Your hands card through his hair, pulling again, which only spurs him on further. Wrenching his mouth away, he sinks one, then two fingers into you, stroking you with a merciless rhythm that has you coming in seconds. A blazing, sodden heat rips through your body, and you can feel the dampness coating his fingers as he looks down at you triumphantly, breathing hard. 

When your heart rate has slowed back down, you sit up, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. "The taste-" he protests.

"I don't care," you say, nipping behind his ear. "Just reminds me of how good you were." You don't miss at how his body stiffens against yours as you say good. "You like that? You like making me feel good? You want to make me feel even better?"

" _Yes_ ," he hisses, as your hand drops to palm him through his jeans. "Please."

"What was that?" you say, as your fingers circle around the button on his jeans.

"Please," he repeats, nearly a sob.

Pleased, you throw a leg over him, shifting again so that you're back on top. Making quick work of his jeans and underwear, you waste no time, closing your hand around him, stroking him a few times. He gasps, arms thrown over his head, hands gripping onto the arm of the couch. "Do you have a condom?"

He nods, gesturing to the wallet peeking out of his pants. You grab it, impatiently ripping the foil and sliding it onto his waiting cock. Pressing your hands into his chest, thrilling at his little moan as your nails dig into his skin, you sink slowly down onto him. There's a little burn, a little stretch, but you're still so wet from before that it's not bad. Taeyong's eyes burn into yours as you start to move, a slow, sultry rhythm, testing out how you fit together. His mouth falls open, head falling back against the couch as you begin to move faster, alternating between bouncing and long, smooth strokes that have you nearly weak-kneed. "Stop, ah," he rasps. "Baby, don't stop, ah."

You increase the pace, bracing against his chest as you grind down on him again and again, feeling him stroke deep inside you, igniting that heat in your belly again, filling you up so much you just want to scream, moving in a rhythm that has both of you sweating, groaning, swearing, seeing stars. 

Suddenly, there's a knock on the door. "Mai?" you hear Kun's voice on the other side of the door, and you praise the Lord that Taeyong had had the sense to close it. "Are you almost done changing? The managers are packing us up to go."

You still, Taeyong still inside of you, as you try to formulate a coherent response. A mischievous smile slides up his face as he slowly snaps his hips up. You glare at him, even as pleasure shoots through your body, but he doesn't stop. "Yeah, I'm almost - ah - ready," you say, trying to keep your voice steady as Taeyong continues to thrust. Your composure is quickly slipping, and you can feel your orgasm inching closer. "Thanks, Kun, I'll be right - um - there."

"Okay," he says. "I'll go tell your manager."

You hear his retreating footsteps, and it's just in time, because just as Taeyong hits you with a particularly deep thrust, his fingers pressing into your clit, you come with a moan, the fluttering and pulsing of you bringing Taeyong to his peak as well.

"You absolute bastard," you breathe, rolling off of him, back pressing into the couch.

"It was worth it, to see that look on your face," Taeyong laughs. "You're no one's Mai but your own, and you know that."

"Maybe I do now," you say, retrieving your underwear and robe. "And what about you? Whose Taeyong-oppa are you?" 

"Just Taeyong," he says. "Korea's Taeyong."

You kind of wanted him to say _yours_ , but as the post-coital glow fades, reality comes flooding back. He's older, he's the leader of your sibling boy group, you're both under a contract that forbids dating, least of all between idols. This was a lapse of judgement, a release of pent-up anger and rebellion against SM, but you can't let that get in the way of your work. "You should wait a few minutes before coming out," you say. 

Taeyong nods, as he pulls his jacket back on, eyes reflecting your thoughts exactly.

You walk towards the door. If this were a movie or even a bad fanfiction, you know you'd pause at the frame and look back. But this isn't fantasy, where everything turns out all right. Without a second look, you walk into the hallway, leaving behind possibly one of the best things that's happened to you in a long, long time.


	8. Jaemin Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jaemin helps clean you up after the VLive, and you connect more than you anticipated. Rated M.

You turn, to find none other than Na Jaemin leaning against the frame. "Oh, it's you," you say, relaxing. "What's up?"

"Just coming to check on the Cream Queen," Jaemin says, shrugging. "How's it coming?"

You shake your head. "It's not coming off, it's so gross."

"Well, live's over, cars are here," he says. "You're welcome to come back to our dorm and shower."

"I have a perfectly fine dorm just down the street," you say, though the offer is tempting. Due to scheduling conflicts, you haven't seen Jaemin one-on-one for awhile, it _would_ be nice to catch up. 

"The new season of Outlander just dropped," he wheedles. "And I have face masks and kimchi flavored chips?"

"Done," you say. "Wow, Nana, you could've just said you wanted to see me."

"I figured you'd need more convincing," he says, falling into step beside you as you walk out down the studio hallway towards the exit. "What with your busy schedule and all. Girl Mark."

"Stop it," you say, shoving him as you step out onto the sidewalk. There are a bunch of fans at the barricades, screaming and taking photos, but you pretend not to notice. Across the way, you can see Yeji look from you to Jaemin and back, staring daggers. 

"Oh, great," you groan. "More shit from the manager."

"It's not a crime to be seen together," Jaemin says, and without warning, pulls you into his side for a hug. 

"Hey, are we doing hugs?" Jeno says, bouncing over to you. "Nana, why didn't you tell me?"

"Hands off, No-jam," Jaemin says, shielding you away as Jeno envelopes both of you in a bear hug. Behind you, you can hear the fans shrieks get even louder. "She's miiiine."

"Okay, that's enough," a manager hisses. "Get into the cars."

Keeping you tight to his side, Jaemin pulls you towards the car, where Renjun and Chenle are already in.

"What are you doing?" Yeji says, in English so that the fans won't understand. "Did you forget why we did today?"

"She's coming to hang out with us," Jaemin replies, flashing that big, puppyish smile. "All of us. To show unity between the groups."

Chants of 'Maimin' and 'SIRENEAM collaboration' permeate the air. "They're happy," you say, shrugging.

Yeji shakes her head. "I swear, you entitled kids take years off my life. Well, don't call me later and cry if a hundred new ship videos show up tonight."

"I'm banking on it," you say, and slam the door in her face.

Renjun whistles. "That was ballsy."

"They can't just treat us like dicks and not expect anything to happen," you say fiercely, remembering that time they left Renjun in the rain.

The driver turns up the radio, which is playing 'Mood Milkshake,' one of SIREN's earlier releases, as the car turns out of the studio lot.

" _Taste that cherry, it's soft like a dream, bubble pop in the straw, make me laugh like I'm sipping on sunshine_ ," Jaemin croons, in a ridiculous falsetto that has you shoving him from your position in the backseat.

"I was fifteen, give me a break," you huff. "Also, that song isn't as innocent as you think."

"What?" Jeno says. "It's like the most poppy, sweet song on that mini album."

You raise an eyebrow. "Do I have to spell out for you that pop and cherry are in the same verse?"

"No," Renjun groans. "They made you hide sex lyrics in a kid's song?"

"It started out as a joke, but the flow was just too good," you say. "Plus, how many k-fans actually know what that means?"

The car pulls into the driveway of the Dream dorm, and you and the boys roll out. Renjun and Jeno run inside, shouting something about the leftover bibimbap, leaving you and Jaemin to walk up more sedately.

You know the layout of the dorm like the back of your hand, thanks to the countless times you'd snuck in during training days, but allow Jaemin to lead you to the bathroom. He hands you a towel and robe from the cupboard. "Use any of the soaps and shampoos, we don't use half of them," he says. "Though I will say, Haechan might throw a fit if you use all of his Pantene."

"Wouldn't want that," you say darkly. "Thanks, Nana. I'll be out soon."

He nods, smiling, and walks out, closing the door behind him. Stripping out of your damp, cream-soaked dress, you turn on the shower jet. The hot water feels amazing after such a long day, and you can feel yourself relaxing, the knots starting to unwind. You squeeze strawberry-scented shampoo onto your hands and work it through your hair, humming softly. Ten minutes later, you're clean, warm, and infinitely more calm. Pulling on the red silk robe Jaemin gave you, you open the door. And run smack into Haechan.

"Aish," he grumbles, looking down at the wet spot your hair left on his shirt. "Watch where-" he looks up, fully registering that it's you. "What are you doing here? And in Jaemin's robe?"

You look down, suddenly self conscious. You'd thought it was a spare, but Jaemin actually gave you his clothing? "He invited me over," you say, lifting your chin. "I wanted to get at least somewhat clean after the stunt you pulled earlier."

Haechan laughs darkly. "All that for just a little bit of cream. Jaemin's really whipped this time."

"Excuse me?"

The idol just smirks. "His room's the first one on the right. Not that you need directions."

"And what's that supposed to mean?" you snap.

Haechan just pushes past you, slamming the bathroom door with a little more force than you think is necessary. Shaking your head, you head towards Jaemin's room. You and Jaemin have been good friends since training, but nothing like what Haechan implied has ever happened. You know, objectively, that Jaemin is very attractive, and that he probably feels the same way, but you've just never really given it much thought.

The door to his room is open, but you knock softly on the frame regardless. Jaemin looks up from the guitar composition he'd been working on. "Hey," he says brightly. "Come on in."

You walk in and sit on the bed beside him, keeping your legs tightly crossed. Jaemin sets down his guitar and walks over to the door, closing it. Your heart rate picks up as he comes back to the bed - you hadn't realized how little clothing you're wearing until now, or how for all intents and purposes, he invited you over to Netflix and chill. "As much as we're all using Netflix to learn English, I don't think the guys want to hear Outlander," he says. 

You nod, feeling relieved and, could it be, disappointed? _No, we're just friends_ , you remind yourself. _He's just being nice_.

Grabbing two sheet masks from his desk and the big bag of kimchi chips he promised you, Jaemin plunks himself onto the bed beside you. His Surface, which was open to Ableton, becomes a TV as he opens up Netflix. "Here, you don't look super comfortable," Jaemin says, patting the bed beside him. He stretches out on his stomach, placing the laptop on the pillows, and gestures for you to do the same.

Carefully, so as to not flash him, you copy his position, making sure to keep a bit of distance between your shoulders. Taking the sheet mask he hands to you, you unfold it and press it onto your face. The Gaelic theme music of Outlander starts to play, and you settle down. 

As Jenny Fraser, who has a particularly strong Scottish accent, comes onscreen, you take a look at Jaemin to see how much he's getting. "You know we can put on subtitles, right?"

Jaemin shakes his head. "If I can understand a Scottish accent, American will be so much easier."

"As you wish," you say.

"Hey, wrong historical drama," he says. 

"You've seen the Princess Bride?"

"Please," he says. "I know all the American classics. Princess Bride, Pretty Woman, 27 Dresses..."

You giggle. "Nana, those are romcoms. You do know that right?"

"I'm a man and I enjoy doing face masks while watching romantic shit, got a problem with that?" Jaemin says, knocking into your shoulder with his own.

"It's just, when you said American classics..." You can't contain your laugh.

"Mmhm?" Jaemin says, and without warning, lunges across the bed and starts tickling you. "How classic is this, hm? Huh, American?"

"Stop, stop," you shriek, curling into a ball. Jaemin persists, reaching his long arms around you, using his long legs to pin you down.

"Pretty Woman is an American classic, say it," he roars.

"No!"

"Say it," he says, fingers digging into your waist and armpits. "Say it, or I won't stop."

"Fine, Pretty Woman is an American classic," you say. With a grunt, Jaemin rolls off of you, flopping onto his back. Outlander lies to the side, forgotten. You turn onto your side, propping your head up with an elbow. You open your mouth to say something, but almost choke as your gaze flicks below his waist.

"Jaemin," you say carefully. "Did you...?"

"I'm sorry," he says, staring at the ceiling. "I just..."

"Got excited," you say. "But why?"

"Do I have to spell it out for you?" he says, still not looking at you. In front of him, his erection stands up proud and unwavering.

You swallow. "Um..."

"I'm watching a sexy tv show and just wrestled with the girl I like, what do you expect?"

The sarcastic part of you wants to scoff and tell him that Outlander's not that sexy, calm down, but the other part...

"You like me?" you say. You can feel your heart pumping almost in your ears as you look at him, biting his lip and still looking at the goddamned ceiling.

"Isn't it obvious?" he says.

"I thought it was all just for the cameras," you say. "Skinship, all the touchy feeling stuff."

Jaemin finally looks at you, brown eyes burning. "Mai, I touch you because I want to touch you. I talked to you during training because I wanted to talk to you. I've kept up with you after debut because I like you, and I don't want you to leave like everyone else."

You look at him, really look. Under all the smiles and fanservice, he's really just a boy, really. An insanely attractive boy that you've been friends with for years. And he wants you, question is, do you want him? Reaching forward, you cup his angular chin in your hand. "Jaemin..."

"Don't," he says. "Let's just forget it. Forget I said anything, let's go-"

You cut him off with a kiss. He freezes for a moment, shocked, but recovers quickly. Diving forward, his hand tangles into your hair as he pulls you closer, lips greedy. They slide across yours, drawing them up with a hunger you didn't expect. Heat courses through your body as Jaemin pulls you close to him, pressing your bodies together so tightly you can barely breathe. You respond by biting down on his lip lightly. A soft moan rumbles in his throat, and his hands go to your waist, squeezing hard. You know how turned on he is, if his cock is anything to go by as it brushes against your thigh, and can feel the tremble in his limbs as he tries to hold back from crushing you. Jaemin's lips press into yours more insistently as he moves against your body, rutting into you just a bit. Heat shoots southwards as his thigh brushes your clothed clit, and you let out a little squeak.

Jaemin pulls back, blushing, mistaking your moan for a sound of protest. "I'm sorry, if you don't want to..."

You cradle his face between your hands. Everything is a little hot, a little hazy, but you feel like finally, that missing piece from your relationship is falling into place. You and Jaemin have been nearly everything to each other - friends, label siblings, confidants - but the thought of him as a lover feels surprisingly natural. Leaning in, you kiss him again, this time reaching your hand down towards the crotch of his sweatpants. He moans softly as you palm him through the thin material. "Yeah? You like that?" you say, smiling at the slight jerk in his hips.

"Mm," he responds, dropping his head to your neck. He feathers kisses across your collarbone, kissing a hot trail up your neck, and stops just short of your ear as you continue to stroke him. Softly, almost experimentally, he nips your earlobe.

Your response is immediate, as a pleasurable, white-hot feeling zips through your body. Your head falls back, body shuddering, a soft moan falling from your lips and he laughs. "So responsive."

"I could say the same for you," you breathe. "That's not a banana in your pocket."

"Yeah?" Jaemin rolls, suddenly, so that he's lying on top of you. "Want to find out?"

You nod, tracing circles around the hem of his t-shirt. With a grin, he strips it off, dropping it to the floor. He's lean, but a muscly lean that just confirms why so many girls have him as their bias. He takes off his pants next, leaving him fully naked. You blush at the sight of his cock, standing up straight and proud against his flat stomach, just for you. "Okay, fair's fair," he says, nodding to your robe.

"I'm wearing so much less than you," you complain, closing your fingers slowly around the silken belt. "No suspense whatsoever."

"And whose fault is that?" he says. "Who decided to go and get all wet?"

You raise and eyebrow and he rolls his eyes impatiently. Biting down on your lip, you undo the robe and push it open. Jaemin's eyes widen as your body is fully bared to him. You know this isn't either of your first experiences by a long shot, but by the expression on his face as he hovers over you, you're something new.

"You can pick up your jaw, they're just boobs," you say. "And not great ones, either."

His gaze snaps to yours, eyes hungry. "Yes, but they're yours," he growls. Lunging forward, he catches a nipple in his mouth, sucking slightly while also moving his tongue in a way that has you keening, gripping his sheets for support. He laughs softly, teeth scraping lightly across your sensitive skin. As he switches to the other side, one slim hand traces down your stomach until it reaches your wetness. "Fuck, you're so wet."

Your response is a moan as he circles your clit once, twice, then sinks a finger into you. You never thought it would be Jaemin doing this to you, not really, but as he begins to move, slipping in another finger, you wonder why you never did this sooner. His fingers stroke you softly, pressing in, out, just brushing across that secret spot that has you whining, begging him to stop and keep going, all at once because the pleasure is too much. Jaemin's fingers ignite a sultry fire that begins low in your sex, then rises higher, higher, until you're bucking off the bed, a tear slipping down your face, swearing in two languages at once, crying out Jae, Jae, Jae, over and over. With one crook of his long fingers, just as his thumb presses into your clit, you're coming hard, feeling all that built up pleasure gushing over his fingers. 

Jaemin looks down at you, that satisfied cat's smile on his lips, and is just leaning down to kiss you again when a loud knocking sounds on the door. "Yo, stop holding out on us," Jeno says. "Are you watching the new episode without me? That sounds like a super hot scene, open up."

Jaemin groans. "Jeno, hang on."

Grabbing his shirt and pants, he pulls them on, mumbling an apology. "That's code for 'we're being too loud'," he whispers. "One of the other guys probably complained."

Smiling ruefully, you pull your robe shut and rake your hands through your hair. Nope, it looks like you've been thrashing around on the pillows and it's going to stay that way. Jaemin catches up your hand, pressing a kiss onto your skin. "After the episode, maybe we pick up where we left off?"

You look at him, drinking in the happiness in his face, the happiness you put there, look at your friend, your confidant, your Nana. "As you wish."


	9. The Party (Ensemble)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which you and a bunch of SM artists are invited to an NCT house party. Activities include beer pong, guitar solos, and hooking up with the guy you've had your eye for awhile. Rated T.

"Why are you so nervous? It's just a party," Jade says.

Halfway through reapplying your winged eyeliner, you glare at your groupmate in the mirror. "Who says I'm nervous?"

"You're tapping your feet," Jade says, shrugging. "Also, we're going to a party at the NCT dorm. And you know who lives there?"

You roll your eyes. "Jade, if you give me more shit about that..."

"You know they were originally just going to go out for barbecue, right?" she says, snorting. "Some place owned by a former idol. But I texted Johnny and convinced him to invite the squad and make it a party. Oh, and Red Velvet and EXO might be there?"

"Better keep it on the DL," you say. "Don't want the cavalry coming in to bust it up."

"Like they actually care," Jade says. "We're in the middle of comeback, we need to blow off some steam. And you know what the best way to do that is?"

"Do I want to know?"

"Drinks, dancing, and hot, forbidden boys."

You reach over onto the bed and bean her with a Rilakkuma plushie. "Like you've ever followed the no-dating clause. What about all those poor trainees you hooked up with in the basement?"

"Yeah, well, most of them didn't make it, plus, I'm not going to be singing with them on the world tour," she says. 

You groan. Training for your music videos and the world tour starts next week, and you're not looking forward to it. Not only do you have the most center and main vocal parts by a long shot, you're also included on special NCT features in Mandarin, Cantonese and Thai. "Which is exactly why I can't do anything with them. The last thing I want to do is throw off our working relationship with them."

"Whatever you say."

Pulling on your signature knee-high boots (they've been all over Koreaboo and Soompi's fashion posts this year), you mist on a layer of setting spray, pull on a black travel mask, then follow Jade out of the dorm. Evie, Angel, and Jia are already waiting, and you walk down the street together. The NCT and SIREN dorms aren't that far apart, but you have to be subtle, so as not to attract the attention of fans or too many SM staff.

Following their instructions, Jade leads you and the girls around to the back entrance. She knocks three times on the door, which is promptly thrown open. The thumping bassline of BTS's 'Dope' hits you, as does the heavy smell of alcohol and weed. "Ladies!" Ten says, smiling broadly. "Welcome. Come on in, drop your coats, grab a drink."

Giggling at his theatrics, you link hands with your groupmates and follow him into the party. You've been to dorm parties before, of course, but not ones with so many famous idols. You spot Seulgi chatting with Chen on the couch, while Kai and Baekhyun are playing Taeil and Yuta in beer pong in the dining room. Sehun sits in a corner, vaping, vaguely nodding as Wendy chats with him animatedly.

You walk over to the mini-bar (staffed by a disgruntled-looking Jisung, who wears a fluffy rabbit hat). "So they stuck the maknae on bartending duty?" you say sympathetically.

"Chenle's switching with me in an hour," Jisung huffs. "But yeah. You know the drill."

"NCT really is a frat, isn't it?"

"Frat?"

"Oh, fraternity, States thing," you say airily. "They like to haze the young ones. But, yeah, sorry. I'll make my own drink, you want something?"

As you pull out various bottles, Jisung stares, impressed. "Are you a bartender?"

"I've picked up a few tricks," you say, winking and giving the drinks a swirl. "One Long Island Iced Tea for you, Jisungie."

Jisung takes a sip, then gags slightly. "It's so sweet. What's in this?"

"Basically everything," you say. "Bottom's up." 

You clink glasses and drink. Suddenly, an arm is thrown around you. 

"Corrupting our maknae?" Renjun says, grinning. "Can't say I'm surprised."

You bat him on the arm. "And just who was responsible for my corruption? Surprised you got the invite, Dreamy."

"You know you love us," he says, steering you towards the dining room. "Also you're on NCT turf, just 'cause you're my labelmate doesn't mean you don't respect."

"Okay, oppa," you say, sticking your tongue out.

"Fuck me," Renjun says, pressing a hand to his heart, throwing an arm around Johnny as he comes upon most of 127 gathered in the beer pong crowd. There's one cup left on each, and it's getting intense. "She called me oppa, Johnny-hyung, I might faint."

"Mai finally learned honorifics?" Johnny says, winking. "Great, I won't have to yell at her for dropping her _yos_."

Kai tries a behind-the-back shot and misses. Taeil answers by sinking the ball into the last cup. As he and Yuta chest bump in celebration, you swear they were frat bros in another life.

Johnny looks at you. "Want to challenge them? I remember you being pretty good at this, Mai."

You shake your head. "Nah, I don't-"

But Johnny's already raising his hand. "Me and Mai next."

Laughing, you allow him to drag you through the crowd and set up at one end of the pong table.

"Mai, what's up," Taeil calls. Yuta gives you a small salute. "I don't even know why you're trying. We're undefeated." 

"What's that? I don't speak loser," you call, as Johnny pours beer into the red solo cups. 

"Yeah, she speaks, like, three languages, but loser isn't one of them."

"We'll see about that," Yuta says, flexing his hand and bouncing the ping pong ball a little.

The game is fast and furious, you and Johnny sinking as many as you drink. A warm flush has started to creep up your face, and you can feel your vision beginning to swim with all the beer. Taeil sinks the second-to-last cup, and you reach for the cup, only to have Johnny pluck it from your hands. 

"Hey, Johnny-oppa," you whine, as he holds the cup over your head.

"You've already had so much," he says, shaking his head, laughing. "You're glowing."

Scrunching up your face, you press both hands to your cheeks, trying to cool them down. "Is that so?" you say, looking up at him with wide eyes. "Glowing, huh. _If I pretend to be pretty, will you forgive me?"_ You intentionally say the last part in a very aegyo way, pressing your hands to your cheeks. 

You mean it as a joke, but something wicked flashes in Johnny's eyes, sending heat rippling down your spine. Dropping you a wink, he drains the cup. "Win this game and I might."

Biting your lip, you bob the ball in the water cup and pivot so that you're looking up at him. "Kiss it for luck?"

He bends, quite a ways because you're a full head shorter, and presses those bow-shaped lips to the ball. They drag briefly across your thumb as he pulls back, sending a little shiver through your hand. Keeping eye contact with him, you toss the ball over your shoulder. The entire dining room explodes with noise. You turn and are pleased to see Taeil and Yuta staring, dumbfounded, at the ball bobbing in their last cup. "This isn't a freeze frame," you crow. "Drink up, boys."

With an impressed, slightly aggrieved expression, Yuta downs the cup. "Well played," he calls.

You turn to Johnny, victory bubbling through your veins. "Well done, Suh," you say.

"I may be a good kisser, but that was all you," he says.

"Is that so?" you say, tilting your head to one side. 

You're interrupted as Renjun bounds around the table, throwing an arm around you. "Mai, Mai, Mai," he chants, words slurring a little. "Me and the boys are going to smoke on the back porch, come with meee."

You look at Johnny, who smiles, shrugging. "I'll be right back," you say, knowing Renjun will pester you until you come. 

"Looking forward to it," he says, winking.

Letting Renjun lean on you slightly, you walk down the hall to the back porch. Outside are the Dreamies, Hendery, Xiaojun, Yangyang and a few younger female trainees as well. Pretty much everyone is either smoking or playing some kind of drinking card game. "Ditched all the old people?" Jeno laughs, standing up to give you a hug. His cologne (YSL Sage & Cedarwood, you've seen the bottle on his dresser often enough) mixed with the weed, curls around you.

"Almost tripped on a few dialysis machines on the way in," you say, taking a sip of your drink. There's not much room to sit, but you settle for the long loveseat that wraps around most of the porch. Renjun throws himself next to you, almost hitting Mark, who sits on the other side, strumming quietly on his guitar. "Marky," he slurs. "Hold me?"

"Hold yourself," Mark says, playfully shoving the smaller boy off him.

"Yo Dream," Renjun mumbles, then promptly curls into a ball and falls asleep.

Mark shakes his head, a fond look in his eyes. "Crazy kids."

"Do you miss them?" you say.

He looks at you, surprised. You and Mark have talked only a handful of times over the years, though it's always been friendly - you were both so absorbed in training, and then he was always at practice when you dropped by to see the other guys after your debuts. "I really have, but I'll be back soon enough," he says. "What with the reunion after their next comeback."

"That'll put you in four groups, right?" you say, accepting the joint Jeno passes to you. Taking two long hits, you breathe out, watching the smoke spiral upwards. "NCT 127, Dream, U, and SuperM."

"Looks like," Mark says, taking the joint from you and taking a long drag. You watch as he exhales a sharp stream of smoke, delicate lips pursing. _He's quite pretty_ , you think. Then again, aren't you all? "But that just means I get to do more of what I love, right?"

"I guess," you say. "That's a very pragmatic answer, coming from a busy man."

"You would know something about being busy," he says, taking another hit and passing it back to you. You don't miss the way his fingers linger on yours a little, at the shy, slightly teasing look he throws at you. "What do they call you, Girl Mark?"

You blush. "It's stupid, I hate that nickname."

"They're not wrong, though," he says. "We're a bit similar. Both foreign, both hard workers."

You press your fingers to your temples. "You've got that right."

"You okay?" Mark says.

You look at him, at his unnaturally pale skin, the dark shadows under his eyes that match yours. "I think I have to be," you say.

Mark nods all-too knowingly, strumming a minor chord on the guitar. Taking another hit, you sit back, enjoying Mark's simplicity. If you talked this way to any of your members, even Jade, they'd be worried. But it's refreshing, talking to someone who just gets it.

"What are you doing playing music on an off night?" you say, nudging your chin at his guitar. "Are you just a glutton for punishment?"

"It's therapeutic," Mark says. "I have a lot of shit to do, but it's really nice to come back to the dorm and make music that is, actually, mine."

"You write music?"

"Yeah, I've actually been working on a new song," he says. "Just for fun, SM would never release it, but...do you want to hear part of it?"

"Sure," you say. Just as Mark starts strumming, the screened porch door bursts open. Haechan stands there, holding a bowl and lighter. His eyes snap to the loveseat, narrowing. Without a word, he spins on his heel and leaves, slamming the door behind him.

Mark shakes his head. "Wonder what had him so mad?"

You bite your lip. You're used to Haechan's occasional hissy fits, but something in his eyes feels more serious, more hurt this time. "It's getting a little loud and smoky, I might go back inside," you say.

Mark immediately sits up, stubbing out the dead joint. "Oh, yeah, sorry about that," he says. "Our parties can get kind of loud. If you want, you can to my room, might be a bit quieter."

Coming out of anyone else, you think this would be a proposition, but note the way he says _you_ , not _we_. You look at the black-haired boy, all innocent doe eyes glazed slightly from the weed. He's really the full package, you think, a hard worker and a genuinely good guy. And staring at you a bit like a puppy, waiting for your response. It would be so easy to accept his invitation, bring him along, kiss him until you forget all about the burn of Haechan's wounded gaze.

"Well..."


	10. Haechan Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which you follow Haechan to his room, intending to apologize for whatever it is you've done to piss him off. Rated M.

"Well...thanks, but I think I'm just going to go in and get some water," you say.

"Okay," Mark says, smiling. "No worries - let me know if you need anything."

Your heart twinges a little as you stand up - _Mark is just so good, you should stay with him_ \- but you just can't get the sight of Haechan's dark hurt eyes out of your mind. Walking down the hallway, you knock on the door you know to be his. "Haechan," you call. No response. "Hyuck," you try. "LEE DONGHYUK, OPEN UP THE DOOR."

The handle turns and the door moves back just a crack. "Full names," mumbles that familiar voice. "It must be serious."

"Let me in, please," you say. With a grunt, the door opens all the way, and you walk into the room. You haven't been to Haechan's room since he lived in the Dreamy dorm, but it pretty much holds up with his character. Two twin beds with grey comforters, a desk with a giant gaming monitor and keyboard, not much else. You vaguely remember that he rooms with Johnny, but that all flies out of your head as he slams the door behind you.

"Mark? Really?" he says, voice dripping venom.

"No, not Mark," you say. "And even if I did decide to, how is that your business?"

Haechan huffs, head canting to the side. "You clearly haven't changed from our trainee days."

"Fuck you, Hyuck, I was coming to apologize."

"Apologize?"

"Yeah, for whatever has had your panties in a bunch since we started promoting together," you hiss.

"Are you that stupid? You really don't know?"

Haechan looks at you, dark eyes burning, then he lunges for you, pressing your lips together. He pulls you against him, one hand tangling in your hair so tight it almost hurts, the other splayed across the small of your back, holding you flush against him. His heart-shaped lips press into yours again and again with an almost desperate heat, like he's dying and you're the magic cure, making you dizzy until you have to pull back from lack of air.

It's dark in the room as you fall back onto his bed, but in the faint light of the moon outside, you can see him, all wide eyes and heaving chest. Sliding onto his lap, you grind against his growing bulge as you kiss, nipping at his lower lip, pulling at his hair until he straight up whines against your mouth, breathy and low. You smile against his lips, drinking in the fact that you're here, now, straddling Lee Donghyuck, pent-up anger and annoyance singing through your veins that make your hands slightly rougher than usual, scratching down his chest, his small hisses of pain spurring you on.

You slip your hands downwards, teasing across the hem of his shirt before peeling it off and tossing it to one side. Haechan isn't known for being particularly muscular, but like all idols, he's got a justifiably nice body. Your hands ghost over the soft golden planes of his chest, towards the flare of his hips and lower. He sucks in a breath as you brush teasing fingers over his cock. It's rock hard, and you can't help but feel a sense of pride at that, at the shiver that wracks his entire body as you take him in your hand, stroking him a few times, laughing softly as he involuntarily jerks up against your palm.

Leaning down, you place soft, teasing kisses down his length before taking him in your mouth. A low moan escapes his lips, and you hear the rustle of pillows as Haechan's head sinks back into the pillows. Hollowing you cheeks, you begin to bob up and down on him, his hands card into your hair, not to grab or take control, but to hold your hair out of your face as you continue to go down on him, twirling your tongue in a way that has him writhing, hips bowing up until your hands finds either side of his hips, pinning them down to the bed, which you swear only makes him move more, straining against your touch. Haechan is crazy responsive, every twitch and moan magnified in the darkness. His hands drop onto the bed, fisting into the sheets as you make a particularly languorous pass. 

"Shit, shit," he mumbles. "I'm close."

You speed up your pace, reaching to give his balls a squeeze. Two strokes later, and he's swearing, incoherent Korean streaming from those heart-shaped lips, hips thrusting up, and you can taste cum, you can feel it in your throat, but it's fine because you've finally done it, tamed the annoying brat and turned him into an absolute mess like you intended. The power trip is incredible.

You sit up, breathing hard, and he just lies there for a moment, boneless, reaching up only to brush the sweaty hair off your brow. The rest period doesn't take long, because before you know it, he rolls over, looming over you. He doesn't say it, but you can feel it as he begins to push your dress up and over your head. _Your turn_. A sharp intake of breath when he sees the matching, lacy lingerie, clinging to your body like it was made for you. With a quick flick of the wrist, he has your bra off and is cupping your breasts, tracing the shape of your nipples, like he's reacquainting himself with your body, bending to place a few kisses on your breastbone, a little nip here and there that makes you hiss between your teeth. Then his hands move down and push your panties down and off. 

You've never thought Haechan to be shy, but you can see the insecure trainee from all those years ago peeking out from under the man he's become since then. He slowly runs one finger around your sex before gently sliding it in, curious, teasing. He begins to work you, alternating between long, smooth strokes and a fast, punishing rhythm that have you writhing and gripping the headboard for support. A sly grin plays across his lips when you can't control your voice anymore, high, breathy moans squeaking out in a way that would normally make you embarrassed, but Haechan eats them up. When he slips in a second finger, then third finger, it's all you can do to keep yourself from screaming. Cupping his hand, Haechan curls his fingers against you in a way that has you seeing stars, nails digging onto his biceps, as molten hot pressure begins to build in your lower belly. You're almost there, just touching your peak, when he suddenly pulls back. 

You almost cry out, the change in sensation is so different. But then his tongue darts out to suckle your clit, fingers pistoning into you, and all sense of anything is gone. Heat shoots through your limbs, and the world becomes a blur of writhing sensation. You come hard on his hands, making choked sounds that somewhat resemble his name. 

Haechan sits back, waiting for you to recover. It's a godsend that you have pretty fast refractory periods, because you're not satisfied, not yet, and make that clear as you lunge forward and kiss him again. This is a wild, punishing kiss, with all that fighting energy towards each other pouring out as your tongues war together, teeth nipping at each other's lips in a way that will make your stylists raise an eyebrow. You push him onto his back, thighs pressing to the sides of his hips. At a look from you, he reaches into the bedside table and pulls out a condom. You rip the wrapper, hands trembling with impatience, and roll the condom onto his waiting cock. 

With one last, lingering kiss, you sink onto him. Haechan's eyes go wide, hands flying to your hips, a content sigh escaping his lips. You lean back, hands pressing into his chest, relishing the the way you fit together. As you start to move, you're suddenly reminded of the fact that you're both known for being highly skilled dancers, and it shows. The synergy that flies between you, the anticipation of the other's moves, the fluidity that you achieve as you ride him, it's all because of your training. Dancing and sex aren't so different, you think, as you lean down to suckle on his neck, taking him in again, again, again, as you roll your hips.

Haechan's hands tighten on your hips as he sits up, pulling you into a sitting position, taking control as he thrusts up into you. You bite your lip, hard, as he continues to move, stroking you at an angle that borders on sinful, but can't quite suppress the moans emerging at every thrust. You can feel that pressure building up again, and you know he's close, too, you can feel the tremble in his limbs, feel the sweat slicking his chest as he continues to pound into you."Let it out, let go," Haechan croons, lips hot against your ear. "I don't care if they hear, fuck."

In response, you bite down on his shoulder, and he himself lets out a sharp cry. With one last thrust, you're both coming, hot shocks of pleasure rolling through your body, Haechan's trembling, swearing, rubbing your clit to prolong your orgasm as he shudders and shakes against you.

Breathing hard, you roll off of him, blowing out a heavy breath as he disposes of the condom and comes back down beside you. For once, he has no words, only a long sigh as you lie side by side in the dark, not quite touching.

 _Did I really just hate fuck Haechan?_ You think, chagrin beginning to prickle across your skin. It's enough to get you to sit up, pulling on your dress and boots, fumbling around on the floor for your panties, which is a lost cause with the lights off. Deciding to suck it up and go commando, if only to escape this situation, you walk towards the door. You hear Haechan sit up, and for a moment, think he's going to say something. But you just stand there, two supremely stubborn maknaes, battling with feelings that you just can't quite put into words, until you can't stand it anymore and hurry back out to the party. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And finally, the long-anticipated first Haechan chapter. Hope you enjoyed! As a side note, there have been a few story tweaks to Jeno, and Lucas's first chapters, as well as the Party chapter, so you may want to go back and reread before future updates.


	11. Mark Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You didn't think you would end your night straddling a very needy, very submissive Mark Lee, but, well, when in Korea...

You look at him, weighing your options. Chase after Haechan and probably just get yelled at. Go with Mark and...do what? A spark of excitement zips through you at the thought of doing something new, for once, something unexpected. "I'll go if you promise to play me that song," you say.

Mark blinks, eyes a little red from the weed. "What, now?"

"I don't know where your room is, number one," you say, giggling. "And yeah, of course. How can I pass up the chance to hear an exclusive Mark Lee original?"

Blushing slightly, Mark grabs another joint, tucking it behind his ear, and slings the guitar across his shoulder. Walking over to the screened porch door, he holds it open. You walk inside together, the roar of sound back in full force. Mark leads you down the hall, then up a staircase. His room is the second off the landing, you find, as he opens the door slowly and enters. Flicking on the light, he hurriedly grabs a stack of clothing from the floor and shoves it into an already-overflowing laundry basket. 

"Sorry," he mumbles. "I don't have guests very often."

"It's fine, I live alone too," you say. 

With a nervous laugh, Mark looks from the bed, to the desk (which is mostly taken up with sheet music and a keyboard), to the bed, to the desk and back. Deciding on the cleaner option, Mark sits on the edge of the bed. Taking a cue, you also sink onto the mattress, leaving a bit of room for Jesus. 

Mark runs a hand through his dark hair, scrunching up his nose in a nervous sort of way that you find cute. "So, um, yeah. Right. My song. Yeah, I wrote this on my Super M tour, it's rough..."

As he begins to strum, soft voice beginning on the first verse, you're reminded that he actually got into the label with a vocal audition. Though SM treats Mark as a rapper, he has clear talent, slim fingers running up and down the nylon strings, singing in a seamless mix of English and Korean. You tilt your head back, riding the waves of your high, letting the music wash over you like warm bathwater. Little details catch your attention, like the small, star-shaped crack on the white plaster ceiling, the light rain of dust swirling around the slightly anachronistic chandelier that bathes the room in warm golden light. _Anachronistic_ , what a great word.

Almost like you're not in your body anymore, you lean back, hair fanning out across Mark's blue comforter, reaching up a hand, waving it so that the dust mites in the air do a little dance. You giggle, watching them weave in and out of each other, wondering if they do that naturally or have a choreographer like you. "Everything okay?" Mark says.

"Just enjoying. You have a great voice. Also, there's a crack on the ceiling that looks exactly like a bunny," you say.

"Yeah?" Mark says, setting the guitar down. You feel the mattress groan a little as he lies down beside you, the smell of weed and something sweet, something uniquely Mark, washes over you. You fight the urge to snuggle into his shoulder and inhale - that would be weird, right? But God, talented people shouldn't be able to look and smell this good. "What do you know? That does look like a bunny. Doyoung-hyung." He giggles slightly. "You know, I was born in the year of the rabbit. Renjun would probably think it was auspicious or something."

"You're a rabbit?" you say, turning to face him, propping your head on your elbow.

"Yeah," Mark says. "That surprising?"

"I mean, no," you say. "Rabbits are sensitive and creative, right? Really attuned to others."

Mark snorts a little. "Yeah. That's me."

"You're one of 127's mood-makers, isn't that your thing?"

Mark shrugs. "For surface stuff, maybe. But, I don't know. A lot of the time I feel like I have trouble opening up."

That you can relate to. "You don't have to go into it if you don't want to," you say.

"Out of everyone here, I think you could relate the most," Mark says. He's sitting on the side of the bed facing the window, and with an air of clear practice, he leans forward, throwing it open. Grabbing a lighter from his bedside table, he slides the joint from behind his ear and lights it up. "Sorry, we can split this. It's indica - I kind of need it to sleep."

"You _need_ it?" you say, sitting up and watching him blow a steady stream of smoke out the window. 

"Used to use melatonin, but I built up a resistance," Mark says, as casually as if he's discussing the weather. 

"I can't sleep much either," you say, accepting the joint and taking a hit. "But I prefer meditation, ASMR if it gets really bad."

Mark almost swallows the joint in surprise. "ASMR? Really?"

"Okay, just once," you say, shaking your head. "And it was Jeno's. You know those JSMR videos where he plays with bath bombs and stuff? It's weirdly relaxing."

"Jeno does have a relaxing voice," Mark says, though he still looks like he wants to laugh. "You guys are friends, though, isn't that a bit weird?" You don't think you're imagining the tiny emphasis he puts on _friend_. While it's no secret that you and Jeno have hooked up, you feel oddly disappointed that Mark has to mention it now.

A rather graphic memory flashes through your mind, one of your hookups, when you'd said that Jeno should do JSMR during sex. You were joking, because Jeno is absolutely not a dirty talker, but he'd obliged almost too willingly. You can feel heat staining your cheeks, but you cover it up by taking another drag, shrugging.

Mark sighs. "What you asked me earlier, whether I missed them...I do. Don't get me wrong, I love working with 127 and Super M, but sometimes I wish we could just go back in time to when we were kids and it was all so much simpler."

"You miss training?"

"Not training, necessarily," he says. "But life just felt so much simpler when my day was all planned out for me by _manager-nim._ Nowadays, I'm just as busy, but I'm expected to manage it with minimal sleep and no mistakes because I'm an adult. And I can't just cover it up with a smile anymore...God, I'm already 21, how did this happen?"

The words tumble out of him, like he's been waiting a long time to say them, and though you wish you could do something about the clear stress in his face, smooth out the frown creasing his forehead, you feel much the same way. "I wish I could say something helpful," you say. "But...I don't know. Mark, we're doing one of the hardest jobs on the planet, I don't think there's an easy answer. All we can do is try, keep doing our best, if not for ourselves, then for the fans, the show. Whatever keeps you going."

"Have you ever thought about it?" Mark bursts out. "What life would be like if we weren't idols?"

You have. Everyone in this industry has, some more than others. For you, it always comes around comebacks, when you're constantly on, running on nothing but caffeine and sheer willpower. "I have, but I also remember how badly I wanted this. And how in this world, the likelihood of me being right here, right now, in this exact situation, is infinitesimally small. And I can't let myself down."

"But, say that we weren't idols," Mark says. He leans closer, brown eyes wide. "Say that we were just us, Mark and Mai, college students at a house party. I was stressing about finals or whatever, working four jobs, addicted to melatonin and weed. What would you tell me then?"

You look at Mark, at the anguish burning in his eyes, the hard set of his jaw, the pain written across his handsome face. Sober, maybe, you'd suggest talking some more, letting it all out, but with the warmth of weed singing through your body, the softness of Mark's comforter under your fingers, the knowledge that you're two pretty, overworked idols who badly need to let off some steam, your brain arrives at one conclusion. 

"I would tell you that you need to relax," you say. You shift sideways, moving slowly enough that he could push you away if he wanted, but he doesn't - on the contrary, Mark's breath hitches as you climb into his lap. Setting your thighs on either side of his slim hips, you pluck the joint out of his hand. "Relax." Taking a long drag, you hold the smoke in your mouth, then lean down, propping a finger under Mark's chin. He stares up at you for a moment, and you nearly pass out from the effect of the smoke in your mouth and his wide puppy eyes, but then he closes the gap, pressing his mouth to yours, drawing the smoke out of your mouth in a wicked sort of kiss.

Blowing the smoke out the window in a long sigh, Mark's gaze snaps back to yours. There's heat in his gaze, and he leans forward again, hands coming to grip your hips as you kiss him. Mark is tentative at first, lips pressed together like he's on daytime TV, but you don't want a soft prince right now, you need something hard, hot, to match the wild pulse in your blood. You pull him closer by the hair, rolling your hips against him as you deepen the kiss, tongue flicking across his lips, and are rewarded with a low moan. Mark's lips part slightly, and you take the opportunity to dart out your tongue. He isn't terribly experienced, you can feel it, in the slightly clumsy way in which he tangles your tongues together, the tentative roaming of his hands, but the soft sounds being seemingly pulled from his throat, the way his forces his body to still, his rapidly slipping control, it's hot as fuck.

You drop your head to his neck, placing soft kisses onto his tan skin. Mark gasps, though it comes out as more of a whimper. Grinning wickedly, you dip lower, allowing your teeth to drag across his collarbone, to which he hisses softly. "You okay?"

"No, it's just..." Mark blushes. "That felt really good."

"This?" You nip his neck lightly. Mark makes that strangled noise again, this time unable to keep himself from bucking into you a little bit. He nods. _Mark Lee's kind of a sub, noted,_ you think, which turns you on more than you'd like to admit. Keeping eye contact, you press a hand into his chest, gently lowering him down onto the bed. Adjusting your position slightly, you lean down over him, lips millimeters from his. "You want more?"

 _"Yes,"_ he breathes. He looks so small, so vulnerable, his eyes huge and blown out. You didn't think you would end your night straddling a very needy, very submissive Mark Lee, but, well, when in Korea. You capture his lips again, and this time he's ready to match your energy. Mark kisses you with an almost painful heat, lips sliding, sucking, laving against yours again and again until you're nearly dizzy from pleasure and lack of air. His tongue licks desperately into your mouth as he presses closer against you, and you yourself have to keep very tight control of your vocal chords as his teeth nip at your bottom lip. Pleasure shoots through your lower belly, a hot, mounting pressure that has you grinding against him with renewed force, seeking friction. 

Mark responds in kind, canting his hips up into yours, and you can feel how hard he is, nearly yelping as his clothed cock bumps against your clit. His hands are limp, just sort of hanging in the general area of his head, and you wonder...

You place your hands tentatively on his wrists, and Mark bites down on his lip, hard. Jeno's been the only guy who likes this, and even so, his body's natural tendency is to fight against you, but he'll come like that, teeth gritted and tendons straining against your fingers. Mark, on the other hand, is putty in your hands, his head thrown back into the pillows as you lean down over him, hands pressing his own into the mattress, lips back suckling on his neck, grinding against him in a way that has you breathing heavily, and you're still fully clothed.

"Ah," Mark moans. " _Soljighi_ , ah, I'm, _neomu_ , fuck!"

You're not sure what happens next, if you suck just a little too hard on his neck, or if you hit him at just the right angle, but the next thing you know, Mark is moaning, writhing, and you can feel a slight wetness beginning to seep through his jeans.

 _Motherfucker,_ you think, more for his sake than anything as you hastily climb off of him. Mark lies on the bed, an arm thrown over his face, breathing heavily as he comes down. 

"I'm sorry," he says. "It's been a while, I rarely...even with myself..."

"It's fine," you say. Okay, maybe it's a bit...surprising that Mark jumped the gun? But it's not like it doesn't happen, and judging by his reaction, he's a lot more bothered by it than you are. The pressure between your legs is slowly fading, as you sit up, straightening your dress. He still hasn't moved. "Mark, you have nothing to be sorry for, it's my fault, if anything."

"It's just...God, it's pathetic, you know that?" Mark says, voice wavering. "I'm so on edge, I can't even do this properly."

You bite your lip. You want to stay, make him feel better, kiss away his shame, maybe talk a little, but when you reach forward, brushing your hand against his, he pulls it back like he's been branded. Taking the hint, you stand up and walk quickly towards the door. Your hand is on the knob, and you're halfway out of his room, when you turn back. A litany of phrases flash through your head, but what on earth could you say that would salvage this situation? With a grimace, you close the door and head downstairs.


	12. Jeno Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which an innocent game of strip poker turns into...oh, come on, who am I kidding? Strip poker is never innocent.

The porch door swings open again. Jaemin stumbles in, a striped tie slung crookedly around his head, shirt unbuttoned almost all the way, arms slung around two girls who you don't recognize. "Hey, started the party without me?"

"We were just waiting for you, Nana," you say, patting the seat beside you.

"Mai-yah," he says, face lighting up. Letting go of the girls a bit abruptly, he sloshes over to you, throwing an arm around you as he sits down, burying his nose in your hair. Mark casts a slightly disappointed look at you, but moves over to allow Jaemin more room. You ghost your hand over his dusky blue hair - you'd normally be more receptive, but are distracted by the sight of one of the girls teetering over to Jeno in her tall stilettos, plopping her generous ass onto his long legs. In the six or so years you've known him, you've never known Jeno to be super into PDA, but he somehow allows the glittery tornado on his lap, hands going to her hips easily. She giggles, pressing a kiss to his neck. 

Jeno catches you staring and winks. Something akin to annoyance slides through you, mixed with a little guilt - after your last hookup, when he'd accidentally dropped that _saranghae,_ you'd been too uncomfortable to initiate anything, and he'd been busy with promotions. But you'd come to miss him (and little Jeno) more than you'd like to admit in the last few days, and had planned on approaching him tonight. So even though both of you are entitled to sleep whoever, whenever, the sight of her perched on his long legs makes you want to gag. _What a downgrade_.

"Jaemin, just in time," Yangyang says, shuffling the deck of cards in his hands. "We were just about to start team strip poker."

"We're who what now?" you say, looking down at your flimsy dress and heels.

"Aw, so shy," Renjun taunts. "You have a pretty illustrious history with this game, don't you?"

"Injunnie, we don't talk about that," you say, remembering a rather vivid night during training in which all the Dreamies minus the maknaes (who you'd forced to go to bed) had seen your tits. Years later, they still like to bring it up whenever they can.

"If I remember, you also saw plenty of us," he says. "Who has the better abs, me or Jeno?"

"Jeno-yah, of course," the girl on his lap purrs, stroking her hand down the abs in question. "How could you ask that, Renjeon?"

You grimace as she butchers the pronunciation, like so many people do on first glance of the Chinese boy's name. "I'm sorry, I don't think we've met," you say, flashing her a tight smile.

"I'm Mi-kyong," she giggles. "But you can call me Coco."

"Coco? Hm," you say. "I can't say I've heard much about your work."

"Oh, I'm just a first year trainee," she says. "But Jeno here is so sweet, he got me an invite to this super exclusive party! It's so nice seeing you all up close, especially you, Mai-unnie. I've been a fan of yours since I was little, it's always so nice to have an... _experienced_ role model in the company."

Next to her, you can see Lucas pull a slight face, and you're glad that you're not alone in your annoyance. This bitch is maybe two years younger than you, and she actually has the tits to sit on Jeno's lap and call you old? You were certainly never that audacious to your elder artists at that age. "I'm glad you're getting to see what real idols are like," you say sweetly. "I remember how intimidated I was when I first met our sunbaenims, but _you_ seem to have made yourself comfortable."

"Oh, yes," Coco giggles, her hand trailing over Jeno's thigh. He smiles lazily, pressing a few kisses to her long, swanlike neck. "Very."

"Let's get poker started, yeah?" Yangyang interjects. Probably a good thing, because you're _this_ close to throwing hands. Explaining the rules quickly (in Mandarin too, for Chenle's benefit), he shuffles once more and starts dealing cards. Pairing off, you find yourself with Jaemin, who promptly pulls you into a hug.

"Don't worry, I'm good at games," he says, trying and failing to whisper in your ear. 

"Mmhm," you say, snuggling deeper into Jaemin's chest, heading falling onto his shoulder. "You'd better be, I'm not wearing much under this."

He chuckles, hand dropping to play with the hem of your skirt, thumb skimming across the soft skin of your thigh. "And this is why you're my bias."

The poker rounds fly thick and fast - ever the gentleman, Jaemin takes off the majority of the clothes, and by the latest round, he's down to his boxers. You yourself have lost your earrings and shoes, but when the Renjun/Chenle team win the round, you groan. Among the remaining teams, only Coco, Jeno, Yeri, and RenLe have enough clothes on to still be playing.

"I don't care," Jaemin says, all drunken bravado, snapping his long fingers in the elastic of his briefs. "I have a great body, I'm not afraid. Are you afraid?"

"Nana, no, there are children here," you say, batting his bare chest.

Jaemin winces dramatically, twisting away from you. "Ow," he says. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Jeno watching as Coco strips off her lacy white thigh-highs. They've made a good team so far, thanks to Coco's rampant exhibitionism, Jeno has only lost his earrings. She's down to her bra and underwear (both screaming pink), and as you watch, he snaps the lacy strap away from her skin with his teeth. His eyes do the tiniest flick towards you, and you swear he's grinning as he presses soft kisses into her shoulder. _Okay, Lee Jeno, two can play this game._

"You know you like it," you laugh, raising your voice slightly.

"And if I did?" he shoots back, raising an eyebrow. Normally, the teasing heat in his gaze would have you more excited, but you just can't get the visual of Coco's bouncy tits out of your head. "What would you do then?"

"Depends," you say. 

"On what?"

"On whether we win this game," you say, unclasping your satin choker and adding it to the clothing pile.

Jaemin looks you, a sly smile sliding up his face. "I like the way you think."

As you start the next round, you wonder what would happen if you did hook up with Jaemin. You'd slip off to the bathroom, he'd kiss you as he backed you into the sink, laugh as you made some joke about the sorry state of his abused blue hair, lift you onto the sink, resume kissing you as his hand trailed down your thighs. He'd probably bite your lip, sucking in towards him as he sank two fingers into you, your eyes would fly open as his thumb pressed into your clit, a soft sigh of _Jeno_ would curl from your lips-

Motherfucker. Even in your sexual fantasies about the two, you choose Jeno. 

You win the next round, forcing Yeri, Renjun, and Chenle to fold. It's just you and Jeno. Perfect. "Well, fancy that," you say, leaning closer to him across the table, under the pretext of grabbing a few spare cards to shuffle. "Jeno, I don't think we've been this close to stripping in a minute."

"Yeah? Miss it?" he breathes back.

"Maybe," you say cheekily. "Jaemin, can you help me do this bridge? I never quite got the technique down."

Jaemin obliges, coming up behind you, guiding your hands gently. You can feel the heat of his bare chest pressing into your back as he places his thumbs over yours, flipping the cards through his hands with ease.

"Think you can win this for us?"

"I don't know," you say, pulling a face of mock indecision. "It's going to be a lot of work. Do I get a reward?"

"You tell me," Jaemin says, breath tickling your ear. He places the shuffled cards down, briefly brushing his hand on top of yours. "I don't make the rules, I just follow them. Your wish will be my command."

"Good to know," you say. "Is that the way to your heart, Nana? Winning games?"

"You know I have a thing for competitive girls," he says, winking. 

Jeno clears his throat. "Can we move start the next round? Or are you just going to fuck on the table?"

There's an edge to his voice that makes you smirk. Leaning back into Jaemin's warm chest, you start dealing. One, two, three, four, five cards to each. You look down at your cards - with two Kings, one three, and two tens, you're one card short of a Full House. The statistic possibility of drawing a King or a Ten is pretty low, but if you already have half of some of the highest ranking cards, what are the odds Jeno has them? You draw a card, placing your three in the discard pile. Fuck. It's a Jack.

Jeno looks at you, unbothered, making no move to exchange his cards. "Got something good, Lee?"

"You know what they say about poker," he says.

"What's that?" you say, discarding the jack and taking another card.

"If you don't have a good partner, you'd better have a good hand." His face is innocent as he says it, but the way he says it, voice husky, head inclined slightly towards you, sends heat shooting through your body.

"I happen to have both," you say, toying with the card in your hand. "More than I can say for some."

"Really? Looks like your partner's tapped out," he says, nodding at Jaemin. "Shame."

"You're lucky you've got a working brain, I didn't think yours would know when to stop," you say, shooting a mild look at Coco, who's giggling at something on her phone. Picking up your last card, the blessed bearded face of the Heart King greets you. "This would've been indecent."

You place your cards down, face up. A Full House. Jeno places his down, revealing five clubs of varying values. "That is lucky," he says, and keeping eye contact with you, begins undoing his white button-down shirt. As the fabric slides off, revealing his pale throat, you are greeted with the sight of hickies. Not just a few, but so many that it looks like he's been mauled. Jaemin whistles, while Renjun nudges Chenle, muttering something in Mandarin that makes them smirk. As for you, you have to clench your fists under the table. Jeno's throat is one of your favorite areas on him, and to see him marked up by some giggling bleach-blonde trainee makes your blood boil. But having had enough press training classes, you keep your face neutral.

Jeno deals the next round. You're confident in your Four of a Kind, but the bastard actually shows up with a Flush. "Shame Jaemin can't take off anything else," Jeno says. "You gonna fold?"

"Where would the fun be in that?" In one motion, pull your dress over your head. Yangyang and Renjun hoot, Xiaojun diving to cover Chenle's eyes. A muscle in Jeno's jaw twitches, and you can see him fighting to keep his eyes at an appropriate level as you stretch, lace sliding over our skin as you do. You've chosen blue lingerie tonight, a sheer, satiny set that Jeno once admitted to liking. A lot. 

"Jenoooo," Coco whines, and he shakes his head to clear it, turning to look at her. "Can you finish the game? I'm getting bored."

"Yeah, why don't you finish, Jeno?" you say. "What are you waiting for?"

Rolling his eyes, Jeno deals the next hand. Your Straight beats out his Three of a Kind, costing Jeno his pants. It's down to the wire, him in his black briefs, you in your bra and panties, as you deal the final hand. Looking down, you curse. The only thing of value you have is two eights. Drawing three cards, you come up with nothing. Jeno exchanges cards and watches you intently, looking for any tics. _Fuck._

Cursing the poker gods, you reveal your hand. "Well, looks like a good partner wasn't enough," Jeno says, laying down his Full House. Everyone starts making noise, clapping Jeno on the back. You know you should fold, but the triumphant grin on his face, Coco's hands on his broad shoulders as he pulls on his shirt and pants, make you feel hot, reckless.

"Jaemin," you say sweetly. "Will you help me with this?"

"Huh?" he says, propping his chin on your shoulder.

"You heard me," you say, taking his hand and guiding it around to the clasp of your bra. "This game isn't over unless I decide to fold."

Jaemin breathes out a swear. "Oh, come on, Jeno won fair and square. Don't do this because of pride or whatever."

At the mention of his name, Jeno snaps his head around. His eyes jump to Jaemin's hands on your bra, and his mouth actually falls open. "The fuck?"

"Game's not over until I say it is," you purr.

"The hell it is," Jeno snaps, standing up. Grabbing your dress and heels, he grabs your arm, pulling you roughly up. 

"Yo, Jeno, chill," Jaemin says.

Jeno's eyes bore into yours as he thrusts your clothing at you. "Put these on."

"I don't know," you pout. "What if I didn't?"

With what you can only describe as a growl, Jeno strides forward, pushing open the screen door. "Let me go," you snap.

 _"No,"_ he says. Keeping a tight grip on your arm, he stomps up the stairs, whipping open the door to the guest room and pushing you inside. 

"What the hell was that?" Jeno says, slamming the door shut. 

"What was what?"

"You were about to take your bra off in front of all those people!"

"Relax, Jeno-yah, it's called strip poker for a reason," you say, leaning against the door.

"Don't Jeno-yah me," he said. "I saw the way you and Jaemin were all over each other. Out of everyone, I didn't think..."

"You didn't think what?" you say, voice dangerously soft as you walk over to the bed, leaning back on your elbows, daring him to come closer. As much as you'd intended to put on a show, the image of that trainee on his lap had gotten to you more than you'd like to admit. "Lee Jeno, you do not get the right to be jealous when you have fucking what's-her-name's hands all over you. I saw your neck. Are they from her? Or from the other trainee hoes you're sleeping with?"

"You-" Jeno's jaw clenches, and he runs a hand through his thick hair, creating little spikes as he stalks forward, leaning down, his hands fisting into the comforter on either side of your hips. "You don't even know her, at least I had the decency not to choose Jade or Jia or whoever. Messing with my group members crosses the line."

"Yeah, did that make you jealous?" you say, voice dripping with sarcasm. "Knowing how easy it would've been to get him to fuck me? You're not the only man in my life, Jeno, and you don't want to be. You've made that clear enough." As you speak, you push him onto the bed - Jeno's eyes burn angrily into yours as you climb into his lap but he allows it - sliding your hands into his hair, rolling your hips ever so slightly against his. At the word _fuck,_ you give a sharp tug, exposing his bruised throat, forcing a surprised yelp out of him, which turns into a whine as you graze your teeth over the damaged skin, sucking lightly. The sound spurs you on, and you grind mercilessly against him while maintaining a tight grasp on his hair, his sharp breaths and rapidly hardening cock spurring you on, even as he glares at you.

"I thought of you, you know," Jeno says breathlessly, hands gripping your hips so tightly it almost hurts. "Last night. Balls deep in Coco, and all I could think about was you."

"What about me?"

"How much I'd rather be fucking you," he grits out. "She was submissive, pliant, she would do whatever I wanted. Not like you." With a growl, he grabs your wrists, flipping you so that he's on top, pinning you to the bed. You gasp, not only because of the suddenness of the action, but because Jeno is never this rough, never talks like this. Glaring up at him, half your brain wants to slap him, the other half just wants to fuck him until neither of you can see straight and you can put this behind you.

"Does that bother you? That I actually have a brain, I'm not hopelessly waiting around for you?" you say, laughing derisively. "That other men can make me feel just as good - or better - than you? God, you're arrogant."

A range of emotions play across Jeno's face, and you can't tell whether he's about to laugh, cry, yell, or otherwise have any emotional reaction, but his grip on your wrists has loosened, so you decide for him. Snaking one hand around the back of his head, you pull him down, smashing your lips to his. Jeno makes a furious noise, making a grab for your arms again, but it's too late. Keeping a strong grip on his head, you kiss him furiously, lips and teeth sliding against his, devouring him, and he answers just as hungrily. As kind and vanilla as he normally is, angry Jeno reminds you of just how much power and emotion is really contained in his beautiful, beautiful body. Yanking his mouth away from yours, he recaptures your wrists, holding them above your head in one large hand while his other hand cups one of your breasts, squeezing gently.

"I hate this bra," Jeno groans, voice ragged. "I hate how good you look in it, I hate that I think of you during sex with other women, I hate that I can't get you out of my head." Flicking the front clasp open, Jeno captures one of your nipples in his mouth. Pleasure spikes through you as he ravishes your skin, kissing and licking you with reckless abandon. You hate how, even when you're angry, your body still responds so easily to him, like you were made for each other. Your throat aches from the effort of not making noise - you're still too angry to give him the satisfaction. Jeno rips his mouth from your breast, eyes dark with desire. Releasing your wrists, he tangles a hand into your hair, capturing your lips again. This kiss is slower, more sultry, a slow burn instead of a wildfire, as his hand trails down your body.

Jeno sucks in a breath as he feels how wet you are, a potent combination of suppressed lust, anger, and his early ministrations already soaking through the thin silk. He hooks one long finger in your waistband and draws the fabric down, down. You shiver as his middle finger presses into your clit, swirling once or twice, before daring to dip inside you. The first stroke has you bowing off the bed, to which Jeno laughs, softly, his other hand coming to your hip, pushing down gently. He continues to kiss you deeply, bitterly, almost as if he doesn't want to, as he fingers you, long fingers moving in and out, curling in just the right way, rough but not in a way that will hurt you. He knows exactly what place will have you seeing stars, nearly sobbing from pleasure, he knows exactly what pace to set as his lips trail from your mouth to your neck, sucking just a little in a way that has you swearing, clawing at his biceps. He knows exactly what will happen when he starts moving his fingers faster, biting down on a sensitive spot just below your ear, how when he strokes your clit, once, twice, you'll come hard on his fingers, hips shaking, a moan of pure lust and frustration falling from your lips as your orgasm hits you. "God I hate you," you whisper. You see his dark eyebrows draw together at this, but don't really give him time to process as you push him onto his back. 

Pushing down his pants impatiently, your fingers are just as rough as Jeno's were as you take him in your hand, pumping him to full hardness before sinking down onto him. He hisses as you set your nails into his chest, raking little red marks as you start to move, pace relentless. Spikes of pleasure rip through you as you ride him, drunk on lust and the feeling of being in control. As dominant as he was before with your body, Jeno is now completely at your mercy, eyes squeezing shut, mouth falling open, face screwed up in anguish and pleasure, fingers gripping the sheets for dear life. He's moaning, little whines and choked noises slipping between those beautiful lips.

He opens his eyes briefly, and almost comes on the spot. You look so hot, a light sheen of sweat on your chest, marking him up as you take him in again and again, which just makes him angry, angry at how easily you manipulate his emotions without even trying, how he's become so entirely yours without knowing it, how you've ruined him for other women because they're just not you. Sitting up, one strong arm going around your back, he starts to thrust, hitting from a new angle that has you both moaning, gripping each other, hands scrabbling for purchase on sweat slicked skin. Your fingernails dig harshly into his back, a sting that he'll feel later in the shower and have to jack off all over again, and his hands grip your thighs so tightly you'll be sporting bruises for days. It's like you're tearing each other apart, piece by piece, thrust by thrust, undoing and stripping the other bare until all you have is each other, this feeling of what is and what could be, the precipice between love and _love_ that you teeter on, the dark chasm of fear that has you both unable to express your feelings in any way but this. 

You can feel yourself getting close, and can feel he is too, as his hips begin to stutter, his hands shaking like autumn leaves. Jeno's eyes flash open. "I'm not wearing-"

"It's okay," you breathe, gently weaving your hand into his dark hair. "It's okay." You kiss him, tongue reaching out to flick the corner of his mouth, and that tiny bit of stimulation is exactly what pushes him over the edge. Jeno comes with a groan, holding you tight against him, and a few strokes of your clit has you coming too, mouth forming a silent scream that is swallowed by his lips. You clutch each other for dear life, shaking and swearing and holding each other until you're completely spent.

You're the first to pull away. Jeno watches you, eyes glassy and fucked out, as you pull on your bra and panties, then grab your discarded dress from the floor. You pull it over your head, shimmying into the tight fabric, pulling down the hemline until you at least look somewhat respectable. "Is that it?" Jeno says.

"Is what it?" you say.

"Are we just going to do this and call it a day? Not talk at all?"

You freeze, fingers in the act of raking through your disheveled hair. "Jeno..."

"I don't know what's been going on the last few weeks, but suddenly you go from not talking to me to fucking me into the bed and letting me come inside of you?"

"I'm on birth control," you say quietly.

"That's not the point," Jeno nearly shouts, fist punching into one of the pillows. "What are we, huh? What is this?" He gestures desperately between you.

You look at him, at his wide, pained eyes, the anguish thrumming through his body like blood, and it's like your heart is breaking in two. Your throat burns with what you want to say, but the old fear, the fear of losing him, the fear of messing things up, the fear of giving yourself so completely to someone when you've spent years training how to lock your heart away, chokes you. "I don't know," you say, tears springing to your eyes. "I just don't know."

Though your heart is screaming, though you want nothing more to walk back over to the bed and embrace Jeno, your Jeno, you force yourself to walk to the door, turn the knob, and step out into the hallway, leaving the devastated love of your life and all hope for a future relationship in tatters on the bed.


End file.
